I hit my knee twice since I came downstairs again.
I tried to take a nap
the tv downstairs was distracting
so I turned on music.
that was good.
the phone rings...
wide awake again, waiting for someone to say my name, thinking it's probably for me.
so I drift off a little.
get right to the edge of it.. staring off into that nice deep blankness
and the door gets opened and I get told I have to come down and eat something.
SO I wasn't too fucking pleased, stomping down the stairs, looking like I'd slept, but really I had just been adjusted to the pitch black of the room and my hair was funky from the trying to find the sweet spot on the pillow.
So when my father nearly knocked me over, I pushed back and ended up going off balance somehow hitting the knee into the wrought iron handrail thing on the stairs.
ANd then again a bit later when I was getting up from the couch.. SMACK on the coffee table.
I actually teared up. Physical pain rarely makes me cry.. but this shit was bad...
and I'm sleep deprived as all hell.
I just don't sleep enough. I've had too much on my mind. Not bad things, not at all.. just things that keep my brain in motion long past the point when my body just can't do it anymore.
There is this spot on my neck that needs to be nuzzled... a lil hot breath... having one hot cheek on mine. the other on my shoulder... maybe a lil teeth.
I need the attendant neck to rest my hand on .. and hair to twist my fingers in.
I need the back to run my hand over and the arms ... the arms need to be doubled around me, like I was the last thing keeping them from flying off the earth and into the blackness of space.
I need a hug dammit.
my eyes burn and my knee hurts and I think that I'm just getting sicker but a hug would help. really.
and now I'm listening to bush.
and it makes me want to cry.
and it makes me hate so much about my country and the people in it.