Thinker's Block

It was like any other spring night time. A collage of purple and blue hung above while the silent air flooded the cool streets below. Whether it was Tuesday, Wednesday, or even a Saturday night, it did not matter to Neville. This night frighteningly began to feel like any other possible night in the hurricane of his mind. 

Laying on the hard wooden floor of his bedroom, Neville sprawled with a pen in his left and a revoltingly beaten spiral notebook in his right.

April 9th, 2022

I can already tell it once again. I know it I just do. This happens every so often but I can never tell why. They are like this nonstop train ride of info commercials in my head. I get on my bed and I close my eyes. I have all the lights off, teeth are brushed, I’m tucked in with my comfortable ass pajamas, everything is covered. Yet, I can’t turn off! It’s like putting a blanket over a lamp. Okay ya, the light is technically covered, and so, off in a way, but still the in the essence of things the lamp is still on whether or not it has a blanket. 

Noted: Rereading that last sentence, I have no idea if that even makes sense Neville.

Either way that’s my stupid brain’s problem. I feel like my mind is just playing with me at this point. My brain hates my body now, thinking this is funny or somehow entertaining. Honestly, whatever! 

Right now it’s 1:15 am, I’m calling 6 am at the number.

The day passed into another evening just like before. Neville is again on the blank floor of his bedroom with a pen and notebook at hand. Head arched neck-damaging low, he wrote with Hamilton’s vigorous speed. 

April 10th, 2022

Really, Neville. This is our life now. We just decided to become nocturnal for some reason. Is that like the cool-hip thing now? 

We are fixing this right now! Tonight! This moment! Let’s list this out because that’s the problem-solving thing to do I think, I don’t know but everyone seems to like lists so we are sticking with that.

Seeing as it was around two weeks my troubles have started, I should count from then on. 

Reasons for Problems 

1. I don’t know.
2. I lost my headphones ― no idea where they are or could be. For all I know they could be in my coat still. 
3. My neck has been hurting a little. Most likely from the car-ride home. I admit I did look like a piece of shrimp sleeping. *Noted: Work on posture* 
4. I’m still mad about that stupid chair. I stub my toe at least twice a day on that piece of shit. 
5. Raging anxiety.
6. That Chipotle gift card from Matt was already half used. 

That seems it, not much going on right now. Weird, for some reason I felt like I had more problems than I actually did. Let’s “sleep” on it and see if we can get some lemon out of lemonade. 

That’s the last time we ever write that cliche, Neville. 

This morning it was 5:50 am, let’s shoot for 5:30 am.

Neville’s splash of determination did not last as long as its ripples of stress. The same routine occurred like clockwork. He would brush his teeth, wash his face, turn off the lights, and burrito himself up in his plush ocean blue blanket. Concentrating every brain cells of his on that six-item list, Neville would beg for a single REM cycle. Connecting similarities, casting theories, and falling into doubt, Neville’s mind became cancerous over his inability to sleep. 

Minutes would always turn into hours and Neville eventually could not fall asleep at all for two straight days. This evening was an active one, as rain berated the windows and a mountainous wind highlighted every creak in the house. Once again coating his body on the barren floor, Neville had his head perpendicular to his back and a sprinting left hand. 

April 12th, 2022

Neville man, can we please stop this. Every night, the same song same problem. Lets jus right Let’s just write okay. Whatever it is, just connect your mind to the paper. 

I think one of the most underrated blessings and curses in life is staring at yourself in the mirror. Not talking about your beautiful blue eyes or ultra-soft skin or fluffy jet black hair that makes you so God damn handsome Neville, but I really mean more like in a philosophical sense. Think about it, look yourself in the mirror and what do you realize? That we are really in this bitch. Like I’m a human, living, breathing, writing to myself, and this whole society, universe, planet thing is real. Nature is real, people laughing, loving, all that is real. It’s freaking crazy to comprehend if even can. 

Noted: Alright, after rereading that I sound high or just goofy.

I hate how every time Dad can, he goes full DEA agent on my ass with those door bangs. Like I’m straight chilling from my “doctor-recommended” three hours of sleep, simply doing me. Then it's a freaking cut scene when I close my eyes. Right away, they are either ripped open by my cinder block thoughts or by borderline gunshots that rattle my bedroom door. Can’t win can I? No.

Doesn’t matter don’t think about it.

When I had to pay almost $25 at Chipotle that was like a c’mon. Honestly! I come home from college, tired, pain so bad in my neck my spine would’ve dropped my head, broke as shit, and nothing but a free meal would’ve been my elixir to live. It was too good now thinking about it, Neville. When has Matt, yes your older-scheming-cocky-loudass brother, ever been that randomly kind. He’s my brother I love him don’t shake on that but it’s like a legit TV character with him. There’s always something going, either a towel on fire or him fanatically pleading all us to withdrawal our savings and invest in his self-proclaimed “greatest invention of all-time.” It was like an app that delivers food by drone instead of a car or something like, which I guess makes a difference? It sounded like an Amazon thing, to be honest. 

So I went to bed grumpy at that. I felt too many games being played, to be honest. That’s another thing too I have a problem with. Everybody has to be lying or up to something. Like, I suck at macroeconomics, Neville, we can be real here. I have this take-home test and all I want from Hudson is a little extra help. Maybe some strong, very strong hints that lead to one possible answer for each question. Something like that. Yet, we got Mr. Krabs over here charging me $50! And his answers aren’t even guaranteed, all he’s doing is using his acknowledged smartness as leverage to my crumbling lack of effort. If I wanted to, I feel like I could do well in that class but that takes too much thinking and work and other things. Keep it simple Neville.

So Chiptole and a college Warren Buffett have completely evaporated my wallet… another problem. 

But you know what is crazy, is that actually in a way I didn’t lose money at all. I’m just being honest! I merely exchange random pieces of green cotton for 2 warm, wholesome burritos with extra steak and extra guacamole. As a matter of fact, Hudson didn’t get $50 he got marks that add to the number 50. See, now I’m thinking. Money in a way has no value at all, right? If everyone wanted to, they could hypothetically see $50 as $5, or even further, $5 as a nonexistent description. A letter with lines and a curved symbol is all it takes to hypnotize everyone? Shit, maybe I can print my own money and then say it’s super-valuable because it’s super-valuable! That’s what the U.S does! It’s only right they share their marketing tactics. A little generosity never hurts, even if it is assumed.

*Make note of idea above*

What am even I doing Neville?

THUD! 

But before Neville could make any more conspiracies and eat at the plate of nighttime-pondering, a flip-switch of sleep had already seduced him. 

For the second night in a row, a storm of typhoon category danced outside while Neville laid peaceful in his usual unusual writing pose. 

April 13th, 2022

Okay, huge news! I either got knocked out or fell asleep, it doesn’t matter to me, all I know is that I was one way or another unconscious! Successful night Neville! Weirdly though, it is an odd thing to hope for? I think it was 5ish honestly, can’t pinpoint. But let’s continue whatever that was Neville, seems to be working. 

It’s kind of messed up how humans force dogs to go to the bathroom publicly now that I think about it. Could you count that as peer pressure (Noted: That’s a PETA question)? But let’s be honest, has anyone ever directly thought and actively trained their dogs to use a toilet. No, I don’t think so. Think about it, once little barky comes into the picture the first question most people have is, is it potty trained. Which is in reference to its ability to go to the bathroom outside and never inside. Well, what if instead of seeing inside as the space in which dogs problematically poo and pee, think logically humanly. 

*Note: Million-dollar idea: dog service that teaches dogs how to use toilets. 

Don’t they feel embarrassed? 

I naturally feel embarrassed all the time to be honest. Remember that one time you walked into that pull open door at the mall. I caught a bloody nose and broke my glasses because of that. Remember you split open your pants at school trying to dunk. Damn, I knew that one too. It was way too wet out and that puddle man, didn’t even get one foot up before I resembled the Air Jordan logo, except of course I was on the grimy blacktop and not mid-air. I also hit Mr. Oreno in the head with a frisbee! Oh no and remember how you dropped your trumpet! The stupid thing went down three whole flights of stairs, was no longer a trumpet but really a french horn, and above all, my girl Gracie Hollons was all out laughing at me from the landing. I’ll never forget how red I was. A legit tomato took my face.

I just say things too without realizing it! Remember how I called Mrs. Froglio a communist all because she wouldn’t let me sell my OWN supplied and BOUGHT Gatorade at lunch. Something about only the school can only sell at the cafeteria. The hell! Remember I said I had a crush on Lily, the whole school found out all because I thought I could trust Frannie. What was I thinking! Least to say Lily did not feel the same way. If I could’ve just stopped… I don’t know. 

Why am I even here writing right now?

I don’t like this right now! I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t! Stop these memories, Neville.

Neville did not write for several weeks. The whole notion of sleep deprivation has brought more problems than the six-item list could’ve accounted for. Neville returned to college, finished his freshman year, and began pondering his future. Like any other, his future was unclear and undecided. Still, Neville struggled sleeping to the point the two were oil and water trying to mix. 

One the last day of classes, Neville packed up all his dorm room belongings. In the midst of frisky wallpapers, sports flags, and string lights, he stubbed his toe coming across a notebook. Half of the cardboard cover was ripped off, the papers were tinged yellow, and the wire binding was uncoiling. Before leaving he decided to write one last thing while the bronze streaks of sunset still showed. 

May 15th, 2022

The fact I finished freshman year nocturnal is either a joke or an accomplishment. 

Am I just a weird person Neville. Is this how it feels to be weird. I just don’t get things. I don’t get Matt, I don’t get the economics of unemployment, I don’t get why my left hand was so sweaty when holding the trumpet, or why my Dad has a life goal of breaking my door. I don’t get any of it!

I reread what I’ve written and one thing I can note is that I say the word honest way too much. Or at least I write it out too much. 

Honesty is a unique word. Interestingly, one is being honest when they lie given the fact that if they see themselves relatively truthful. Everything is relative I guess Neville. People always assume to be honest with others, but do they ever relay it to themselves. 

Be honest with yourself? 

Have I done that? Hell no! 

As I write I think Neville, and I may have thought something right now as these exact words have left my pen. 

I have not been honest with myself! Every time I had a belief, a notion, a memory, I told myself to stop. Why! Why is it that when growing up it’s okay to just live be. I used to be really good at theology for some reason. I don’t even go to Church but I can talk for days about the most abstract shit. God even, faith, what is life, all that shit I love and can ponder about. But that stuff is scary as hell! Who would ever want to accept the possibility that either everything may be meaningless or that a random dude in a grey beard is controlling everything? Of course, it’s not that cut and dry but you get my point, Neville.  

I like to listen used to Kid Cudi, J. Cole, people who see things. I can’t find a specific description of how they see but it’s not like everybody else. Do they embrace that fear? Is it because they accept the notion they can open perspective. 

Accepting, that’s an interesting word. I have to accept me? That’s extremely cliche but I don’t care. You know what Neville! Ya, you are a weirdo! And you lack social skills! And you screwed yourself eating two burritos in one sitting! But it doesn’t matter because that is what I am!

I am a thinker! I don’t care if my hypotheticals are slippery slopes arguments, complete trash, or totally based on false data. Give me a topic, give me an object and I WILL find somethings to analyze about it. So what I don’t get it. So what I consistently question my existence causing a circus show of anxiety in me. It’s my existence I can do whatever I want with it. It’s my sleep and I can do it when I want to. I’m the one sleeping!

Let’s go home, Neville!

Neville went to bed that night at 11 pm, falling asleep just 11 precious minutes later to the innate silence of the night.