I can sleep again. I've been sleeping too much, making up for lost time. I still ended up awake until 5am on Saturday night, just sitting in my room drawing, but other than that night I have been sleeping. A lengthy bout of insomnia, and now relenting into sleep. I even dreamed. Not half sleep nightmares but a real dream, where reality became wonderfully tangled up in my subconscious and strange things happened. Even sleeping alone wasn't a concern, I was far too tired, or my body was. My mind was still attempting to read and engage in Sherman Alexie land, but my eyes refused to see the pages anymore. My mind is awfully wandering these days, back to old times, and to the future, and everything in the present that I must do. I'm trying to write a short story and just failing miserably. I haven't even gotten a page. It's forming in my head, the issue is getting it out of my head and into something presentable.
Then there's sleeping alone. Sending foolish text messages that would do nothing to solve the problem of sleeping alone, and only exacerbate old wounds. I wish we still talked. That would be more than enough for me. I'm not in love with him anymore, though I miss him. I don't miss the romantic aspect, just the connection. Having someone I could talk to about absolutely any strange, weird, alien thought that entered my head. Knowing someone cared and cared to understand. I don't think back wistfully to first kisses in the stacks or love letters. Just talking.