Thirty-Seven

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When I wake up, it's pitch black, and I'm alone. I'm disoriented. I grab my phone to check the time and see it's only three in the morning. I groan. That's what you get for falling asleep so early, I scold myself. I'm groggy, but I doubt I'll fall back asleep.  

I scroll on my phone and watch pointless, mindless videos to pass the time, hoping that I might fall back asleep watching them. But I don't. I grow more awake as time goes on. I figure Adam is in bed by now, and I don't know anyone else who stays up this late or wakes up this early.

I miss my routine because I never had these issues when I stuck to it. Every day was the same. I went to bed at the same time at night, and I would sleep all through the night and then wake up at the same time every morning.  I kept myself busy throughout the day by working and keeping my apartment clean. 

I saw Dad every Thursday and Chelsea nearly every weekend. I read books and watched movies. I scrolled social media. I celebrated holidays and encountered no surprises or unwanted distractions. My mind was under careful control so I wouldn't think about Mom. I had everything under control. But it was all unraveling now. 

When Adam is around, my routine seems dull and lifeless. My previous existence seems robotic and pointless when I spend time with Adam. I'm young. I'm supposed to stay up all night going to concerts and parties. I'm supposed to travel and experience all life has to offer. How did I somehow turn into this mindless robot? 

But my routine was safe, I argue, and predictable. And being so attached to another human being is unhealthy, I reminded myself. Maybe I needed to see a therapist. Maybe I was messed up after what I witnessed with Mom. Maybe I'm not normal. Maybe that's why Dad is always so concerned about me. 

I'm growing frustrated now at my lack of control over my mind. I had spent years carefully maneuvering my thoughts so I wouldn't be plagued by unwanted hurt. The videos on my phone are no longer able to distract me from myself. I sigh, frustrated, and decide I have to get up and move. 

I quickly put on my athletic attire, including my new running shoes. I go into the bathroom and turn on the night light. I brush my teeth and throw my hair up into a ponytail in the dim light. I pack a bag, grab my keys, and quietly make my way down the apartment stairs to my car. 

I'm surprised at how quiet it is. It seems surreal. I'm standing out here wide awake and alone while a majority of these people are sleeping soundly in their beds. I think about the concept of humankind being on similar schedules and sleeping together but separately. I think about the few night workers who must be at their jobs now, ready to come home in a couple of hours. 

I climb in my car and set my GPS. I decided I was going to go spend a day by myself hiking in the mountains. I couldn't identify the anxious, panic-driven need that made me decide this. I just knew I needed to do it. I only wished it wasn't going to take me two hours to get there. As long as I focused on driving and listening to music, I wouldn't have to wrestle with my thoughts much. That was the plan. 

Halfway through my drive, my plan fails. I can no longer hold my thoughts in the back of my mind. The dam is breaking, and they leak through one by one.  I think about Mom and everything I witnessed as a child. I think about my recent conversation with Dad and how we actually talked about Mom for the first time. I think about Adam and how he's somehow been able to unravel my entire state of being in just a matter of weeks. 

I think about Brandon and Jeremy and how everyone thought they were such a waste of my time. I think about my conversations with Chelsea and how she was surprised I didn't hate them or, at the very least, resent them. I realized then that I wasn't as affected by their betrayals because I never truly cared for them. They were placeholders in my life. People to pass the time. They came and went. We had some good times and bad times. 

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