I saw the sun rise for the second day in a row. It wasn’t because I decided to get up early after a restful night of sleep to see the beauty of a sunrise and bask in the glory of the wonder that is life. No, nothing even remotely close or pleasant as that. For the second night in a row I pulled an all-nighter to get my projects finished up. I have gotten some sleep these past few days but that was mostly due to me passing out from exhaustion. At least I have sleep to look forward to once this semester is over. I plan on sleeping at least through those first few days that I get back home and can lie down on my real comfortable bed and not those rectangles of foam the university calls a mattress.
I have to say, there is something so odd about being up all night and seeing the sun rise. During the day, we watch the sun slowly sink into the horizon as it gets gradually darker over the hours before a sunset an even then the light seems to linger on for just a bit more before the night fully arrives. The mornings however seem to be the complete opposite. The night goes on and on and then suddenly, it’s bright outside and then soon after the sun is rising. It’s almost as if you blink you’ll miss it.
I’m sure that there’s a reason for that but I don’t really care right now. I’ve got enough on my mind as is. For now, I’m just going to say that the sun is a morning person and I can understand why. My only issue with the sun being a morning person is that I, most definitely, am not.
If you’ve read any of my previous posts you might have found out that I’m rather socially awkward and that one of my biggest fears is dying alone. I don’t mean to say that I’ve reached a Unabomber level of social interaction or anything even remotely close to that. I have friends and such but what I mean is that when it comes to a love life, mine is literally non-existent and I have almost no experience in that area of human interaction. So when I say that I’m going to die alone I mean that I’m going to be alone and unloved for the rest of my life until I eventually die. Now that I’ve gotten definitions out of the way, let’s get to the actual story.
For the last few months I’ve developed feelings for one of my good friends. I’ve been friends with her for years and we’ve gone though a lot together. I spent most of this semester overthinking everything and waiting for that impossibly perfect moment to tell her how I felt. Though my nerves probably would have prevented me from doing it even if that moment did occur. As an aside I’ve become pretty good at bottling up my emotions (yes, I’m aware that it’s likely unhealthy) so it was pretty easy to hide how I felt about her. However, my feelings for her combined with my insecurities began to fester in my mind over the months. My anxious thoughts would keep me up late into the night while I tossed and turned in bed. The thoughts used her as a focal point but were more about my own fears. “Why would she even like me?” “I would have absolutely no experience with dating and relationships while she does. Surely she wouldn’t want to have to deal with that.” “I’d probably just be terrible at relationships anyways.” “What if it ruins our friendship?” These thoughts went and still go on and on and on. Gnawing away at me day after day.
Then there came the night before my post about “Today I Learned.” I got far too drunk and ended up drunk texting her sloppily how much I liked her. It wasn’t a very pretty sight. I apologized to her later and she said to not worry about it but I still felt terrible. My thoughts were racing around even faster. Combined with the stress of all the work that I have to do in these next two weeks I felt like ripping my brain out. Then, last night happened. Last night there was a small relaxed get together. I had a few glasses of wine and then a few more. I was very conscious of my actions, however. The wine acted more as liquid courage than stupid juice. In the end, after getting back to my room, I sent her a long message about how I had meant to say all that I had in the drunk text while I was sober and that either way I just wanted closure at the very least. I got a response the next day and unsurprisingly she said that she just saw me as a friend.
I suppose that it could have been worse. Our friendship could have been ruined by me doing something especially stupid or continuing to bottle up my emotions and causing up to drift apart from me being so emotionally unavailable. Don’t get me wrong, I still felt like crap about it like I think most people would but I want to believe – need to believe – that in the end this will be good for me.
Still, a large part of me knows that this is just more confirmation of the fact that I will die alone. I know it sounds ridiculous that I would get that from getting rejected from just one girl but understand how I see it. It took me months of buildup just to tell her how I felt in an almost reasonable way. On top of that, she was the first girl that I outright told how I felt about her. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had many crushes before but I’ve never in my 21 years of life made the first move to tell a crush how I felt about her. It’s a bit embarrassing but it just supports my belief that I will never find love and will eventually die alone. I know that I wound wishy washy about this and that’s just because I am. I think that this whole experience was a good step forward for me but it was only a baby step in the long road to not dying alone and the clock ticks faster everyday.
I apologize if were expecting me to end with something more positive about what I learned from this but there’s really nothing all that positive to take from it.
One of the big problems with normally getting so little sleep is that your body will actually get used to it. You’ll still feel just as tired from getting only a few hours of sleep like you would if you had a normal sleep schedule but now your brain is expecting you to only sleep for a few hours. That means that once you actually get the chance to fall asleep early or at a normal time, you’ll find that you don’t get a full, restful night’s sleep but instead end up waking up at unreasonably early hours of the morning and that it’ll be quite hard to convince your brain to let you fall asleep. This has been one of the two problems I’ve been having now that I’m back home for the Thanksgiving. It seems that my choices are to either stay up late or wake up early. Both of which are shitty.
Now, the other issue that I’ve had involving sleep is with my dreams. I’ll always gone back and forth between either having no dreams at all or having very long, drawn out, dreams that are very vivid. If I was a psychologist or someone who studies dream I could probably tell you why this is but, to be honest, I don’t know and I really don’t care to know. I do know, however, that it’s related, at least partially and for me, to how much sleep I get. Well, now that I’m back home guess who’s been having plenty of weird dreams? That’s right, me. Not all of my dreams are terrible, some can be a lot of fun but they usually tend to swing between fantastically amazing and utterly disturbing.
For example, yesterday I had a dream that would have made a really cool episode of Doctor Who and I was both the star and the spectator at the same time. The plot that I got out of it was that the Doctor did something that made all of Humanity know who he was and then he disappeared but he left his TARDIS around and completely open. After years and years the Doctor is still missing but has become a legend and while people have done research into the TARDIS trying to figure out how it works. They’ve started to make crude representations that can disappear and reappear like the TARDIS but can’t actually manipulate space or time. Then it took a bit of a darker twist. The main character that, who I was in the view point of, ended up getting led somewhere and captured. They had people lined up and were getting injected with some strange drug. Now, I don’t remember exactly what it was but I thought it was a cool idea that they were trying to turn humans into something like Time Lords. Anyways, I escapes and is chased down. Right before I’m caught the actual TARDIS appears behind me and a woman steps out wielding a sonic screwdriver. She takes care of my pursuers and then we rush into the TARDIS. We both refer to the other as “Doctor” thinking that either one is the next regeneration only to realize that we were both only part of the strange drug experiment and that the real Doctor still needs to be found. My dream ended there. I swear I even saw the credits begin to roll before I woke up.
That sounds like fun right? Well, it was but that was definitely one of my better dreams. The more disturbing ones tend to be less fun. Now there’s two main categories here. Ones that play off my fears and one that are just messed up. The ones that play one my fears and anxieties are pretty much what you’d expect. The classic, “you failed all of your exams” or “getting rejected in the worst and most humiliating way possible”. They always make me wake up with a feeling horrible but at least they can be reasoned away after thinking logically about them. The more disturbing dreams, however, are a bit harder to reason away and almost always make me feel sick. I haven’t had them often but when I do they usually stick in me head for far too long. I really don’t feel like writing about them hear and if I told you about them you probably wouldn’t blame me for that choice. What you need to know though is that they’d be disturbing to anyone who’s not a psychopath. These day, I’m always hoping to get one of the fun pleasant dreams if I dream at all but most of the time it’s just a gamble.
- Drunk Texts are almost always a bad decision and if you for some reason thing that they are a good decision then you’re two things: wrong and drunk.
- I am most definitely going to die alone. It’s not like that’s news or anything but it certainly more confirmation and evidence supporting that statement.
- Despite my best efforts and any optimistic but mislead thoughts, I am not good at being social and, in fact, am incredibly socially awkward.
- Taking naps in the late afternoon will only ensure that you stay up way too late into the night.
Now, you might be thinking that there’s a story behind all of this and, well, you’d be right. Though I’d hardly consider it an exciting one by any standards and therefore I’m not going to bore you with the details. In fact, the story is so boring that it could simply be summed up in a rewording of those four points and probably even written in less words. So for now, I’ll keep the mystery alive.
The first time I rode a roller coaster I was around 10 or 11 years old. I had gone to Cedar Point with my family for the weekend. I grew up in a small town in the Midwest and up until that point I had never been to an amusement park that came anywhere near what Cedar Point was like. My mom made it her mission to have me and sister ride our first roller coaster ever. The first pick was this old, wooden roller coaster called Gemini. We waited in line and finally made our way into the car. We got strapped in and I really took a good look at the roller coaster and that first hill. It looked even bigger from that seat now that there was nowhere for me to go but up. The old tracked clicked and clacked away as we slowly went up higher and higher. My hands gripped onto the bar for dear life. Then, finally, after what felt like a lifetime of anticipation, we dropped down the first hill. I was afraid for less than a second before I began to love every second of that bumpy ride. The rest of the weekend was spent with my family and I trying to ride as many different roller coasters as possible.
Everything was going great until we went on this one ride called Corkscrew. As you might guess, it’s main feature was several upside-down loops ending in a corkscrew before finishing back at the beginning. I went on it once and loved it, of course and as the line was short I decided to go back on for another ride. This time however was different. I pulled down the overhead bar and heard it click one less time than it had before. I let go for a second and it started to rise back up. Before I could say anything, the car started moving up the track. Now, in reality I was probably perfectly safe though I had a little more wiggle room that I might have liked. But, in my 10-year-old mind, there was nothing stopping me from flying out to my doom beyond my death grip on the harness. We went up the hill and unlike all the other times on a roller coaster that weekend, I felt real fear. We dropped down the hill and my knuckles went white. I held onto that harness for dear life and pulled it so tight against my chest that it was hard to breath. My lips were sealed tight and my eyes were wide. We hit the first loop and I felt myself get pulled out a bit from the car so I shoved my feet down on the floor trying to push myself right back against the seat. We hit the second loop and I pushed even harder. Then, we hit the corkscrew and I clenched my eyes closed. If this was the end than I didn’t want to see it. When I opened them again, I was back at the start and harness rose up off of me for real this time.
I stepped out the cart and breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn’t died by getting flung out of the roller coaster. Of course, I tried to tell my parents what had happened but they laughed it off as I would have too if I heard my 10-year-old self. Needless to say, I did not have any interest in riding that roller coaster again. Ever. I was just glad to walk away with my life. And then I never rode a roller coaster ever again. That is, until I saw one ten minutes later that looked awesome.
Daily Prompt: Safety First