it is 4 a.m. i am in the kitchen, sitting on a foot stool net to my refrigerator. the only light that shows i am present on this timeline is my phone light. my father has been texting me on and off. he can't sleep. neither can i. i don't answer his texts. they're all the same to me—"i love you". key-smashed emojis. "i miss you". emojis, emojis, emojis... i feel my eyes droop, but i can't muster to go to bed. my heart is beating like i'm committing a great sin. my glasses have long since been removed from my face, but that fact is forgotten every time i wipe my face. he's not to blame for my restlessness, my anger, or the feeling rising in my throat. but i am still angry. and, he is spamming my phone. i hear something moving and i suck in a breath. no one can know how bad my sleep schedule has gotten. no one can know i'm not in bed. a shaky breathe enters my body, and exhales. my phone is off, and all i can hear is blood pumping wildly in my ears.
i might vomit.
