It is 2:26 in the morning as I lay in my bed adjacent to the room I spent all of middle school and high school in. It’s my brothers room now, so sometimes the room I sleep in feels like a foreign place. The sound of our basement tenant speaking on the phone clashes with the sound of the wind bristling through the leaves. The smell of his cigarettes is clogging up my one good nostril.
It is 2:28 in the morning and I have a flight to Spain in about 35 hours. I’ll be going to Malaga and Madrid for a week apiece. I tell myself that I’ll be going there to take some time away from home and write. Maybe I’ll sit atop a rooftop bar, look at the vast architecture built by previous civilizations, and string together a few poems.
It is 2:30 in the morning and all I can think about is how there are so many unburied hatchets are left in my backyard. So many things left unsaid between people I haven’t seen in years. I always think of myself as a confrontational person. Someone from the Bronx who doesn’t take shit and says what he’s thinking (in carefully worded rhetoric). But really, those kinds of confrontations never happen. I don’t look for them. Why would I? I know those face to face scenarios never work. I’m not the white protagonist in the TV series that always says the right thing with bravado. No, I’m that awkward brown guy who hasn’t quite grown into his own skin [and never will].
I think I use being “adventurous” as a code word of running away. So much of who I am consists of running away from my problems. I ran away to college, and I’d wait for the end of ever summer so I could run back to that small haven. I’m running away to Spain for two weeks. And pretty soon I’ll be running away into my own apartment. I think I’m being adventurous but really I’m just too scared to face my problems. I think that maybe a solution is a long car or place ride away. It’s much easier to think that a solution is just far rather than nonexistent.
It is 2:35 in the morning and I really should be asleep. But I took a nap at 6 and I had coffee at 9. I played about two hours of Destiny 2 and rewatched another episode of How I Met Your Mother for what must’ve been the 7th time. I just flicked a spider off of my shoulder and am now freaking out that they might have laid eggs in my ear. I’m listening to the distant sounds of the 2 train. I’m wiping away snot from an unfortunate cold. I’m doing everything except sleep, because every time I put my head down all of those unburied hatchets keep coming back to me. All of these “what if” scenarios pop in my head and I act them out with the kind of gusto that I just can’t manage in reality.
It is 2:40 in the morning. I guess I’ll try and go to sleep.