ravensong


I can’t sleep to save my life. And in the few restless moments of sleep that I do get there are no dreams to save me from a painful reality in which I tend to do things that I regret; such as messaging people when I’m drunk and asking them to come and see me. The problem in this is that I message people who know each other and I can imagine there is a frenzy of gossip messaging discussing the lonely drunk seeking company. It’s pathetic. As usual, I emerge from drunken reverie wishing that I had a time machine so that I could set it back to yesterday and undo what I said. And yet, at the same time, there is a defiant side of me that tells me I have done no wrong. I have no reason to behave like a prude simply because I think the ones I love or want will one day end my waiting and finally flock to my side. There is no pale-skinned, raven-haired beauty waiting in the wings to save me from myself and as I resort to cliché I end this piece before it saddens me further.

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