Not-Quite-Midnight Dreams (I'm on a writing rampage.)

I saw my best friend’s (yes, I’d still say she’s my best friend even though I hardly talk to her anymore, one of three people I consider my closest friends) baby’s head sway backwards for a split second before my best friend caught it. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” she says. She is the same as always. Her boyfriend surprisingly seems to have adapted to fatherhood much more gracefully than she has to motherhood. He holds the baby’s head in the crook of his arm confidently and rocks him gently back and forth. When you see your best friend become a parent, come talk to me about it. Because as for now, this is all I have to say about the matter. The rest - well, I can’t even contextualize it.


I still have this boy’s blanket for Christ’s sake and I still never think of him. He is so unreal to me. I once thought I was going to marry this boy and most of the time I forget he even exists. He’s just one of those past lives I’ve almost completely lost. When he said, “Charlie Brown blanket,” it took me a minute to think of what he was referencing.


Things have got to change.


I really think I write badly because I feel like I leave out a lot of important details on accident. I forget my audience. My writing is very self-absorbed just like the rest of my life. People have been telling me to “get out of my little bubble” for six years now and I still just don’t get what that really means. I’m always being told “how young” I am. I’m always feeling like whatever emotions I have are so invalid because it’s all just caused by this distorted perception you’re thought to have when you’re a teenager.

I feel like I just lack the fundamentals of being an adult. I have no sense of realism. No sense of responsibility. I’m irrational and impulsive.

I love my mom because she a lot of the time she thinks the exact same way I do. I tell her about Patrick texting me and she says, “He is so weird.” I laugh in my bathroom by myself. Sitting there with the shower running and feeling awesome because not many other people are doing this on a Friday night. Not everyone has a mom who texts them things like that. Not everyone is alone. Not everyone is high. Not everyone is in New York. Not everyone is a girl. Not everyone is nineteen. Not everyone is cynical. Not everyone. Not every one.


The ceiling is dripping! It’s raining on the inside! Time to go go go! Get out of this wretched bathroom.

I wish I still lived in the 90’s before caller I.D. was invented. I would do prank calls all the time.