Looking to fix a shattered Life

Sleep Deprivation

It was early Friday morning as Patrick woke before the alarm clock went off. Labor Day weekend. A nice long weekend, the end of summer. The sun was starting to push its way into Patrick's bedroom, thru the fabric blinds. He hoped he might fall back asleep, maybe go in to the office late or maybe just blow the day off and stay at home making this holiday weekend longer. He hadn't been sleeping well, these past nine months. Amazing, it had been nine months, 36 weeks, 275 days since he last saw Kevin but he wasn't keeping track. He wasn't thinking about Kevin. He wasn't missing Kevin. And Kevin was certainly not the reason Patrick was so restless at night, or so he told himself repeatedly like he desperately needed to believe it. He rolled over, threw a blanket over his head and closed his eyes tightly to force himself back to sleep but it was useless. His mind betrayed him and wandered back to last year, December and the wicked fight he and Kevin had in their apartment, their new home that he barely spent one night in before throwing a giant wrench into his life, his happiness and his future.

"Fuck, I cant keep doing this" Patrick said to himself. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and headed towards the kitchen. The house was silent except for his footsteps across the hardwoods. Augustine and Eddie were away for the long weekend. Patrick pulled a box of cereal down from the cupboard and had just enough milk for a small bowl. Finished, he put the bowl in the sink and headed to the bathroom for a shower. He picked up his toothbrush to put paste on the bristles and a wave of sadness hit him so hard he nearly doubled over. Kevin's words were screaming in his head; sharing a sink next to his for the rest of their lives that lasted less than 24 hours. Patrick quickly threw on his clothes and headed outside into the air. His head felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to it and his chest was so tight as if a city bus had been parked on it. He made it to the sidewalk in front of his home, bent over and grabbed both of his knees and tried to inhale as much morning air as he could, to steady himself, to stop the nausea, to subside the panic, to try and get a hold of a life that keeps spiralling into blackness. Patrick breathed and thought of work, being in the office, creating, getting distracted by his projects, and people. This was helping. Suddenly he was upright and moving, crossing a street, catching the bus. Panic attack over. He would be OK for the rest of Friday. But the attacks were getting much worse compare to say February or May; the absence of Kevin as the days and months passed was becoming sheer agony that Patrick had hoped would lighten with the passage of time.

Patrick would get to the office, make light-hearted small talk with co-workers, eat lunch with Owen, maybe pick up his dry cleaning on the way home from work, stop by Dom's restaurant for a quick hello and catch up session, swing by the barber shop to see if Richie wanted to do dinner reservations and a movie or stay in, order a pizza and watch tv. These were good plans. Friday was already looking like a winner. This holiday weekend was going to be a new start. Patrick felt the bus pull away from the top of his chest. And the baseball bat beating on his head was down to a low thud. Patrick thought I can do this. I can control my life and make my own happiness.

Patrick sat back in his office chair. He felt accomplished, satisfied. He glanced down at his watch. Six and a half hours have gone by and thoughts of Kevin tried to creep into his subconscious but Patrick pushed back. Kevin was not here at MDG, he was not in San Francisco, he was not in the state or in the country. Kevin was a world away.