Open When You Can’t Sleep

You’re still awake. Fucking hell, Kittish, what are we doing here? But no worries, the insomnia club is accepting new members, and apparently the membership fee is your fucking sanity. I hope you’re at least comfortable, ’cause if you’re going to spend the night staring at the ceiling, you might as well do it without a crick in your neck.

There’s a very specific kind of bullshit that only seems to happen at night. Suddenly you remember something embarrassing from three years ago, develop an intense hatred for a conversation that went perfectly fine, or decide that now is the ideal time to reconsider every decision you’ve ever made. Brilliant timing. Couldn’t have done that shit at noon, huh?

If that’s what you’re doing, I have no useful advice. My own brain has a terrible track record, and I’m not about to start handing out instructions I can’t follow myself. But if you’re awake because you feel like talking, then talk. Tell me something stupid. Tell me something you’ve been meaning to say. Give me your most controversial opinion about food. I’ll judge you accordingly. We could spend an hour arguing about something completely irrelevant and accomplish absolutely nothing. Sounds like a decent use of time to me.

If you don’t have anything to say, that’s fine. You don’t need to come up with a reason to text me, baby. Although, if you wake me up just to tell me you saw a weird-looking cat, I reserve the right to question your priorities. I’d still want the picture though. If you’re reading this because you miss me, that’s a different matter. Obviously, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Must be a terrible case of mistaken identity.

I hope you fall asleep soon. Preferably before you find something on the internet that makes you even more awake. I refuse to be held responsible for whatever X, YouTube, or TikTok rabbit hole you end up in.

Goodnight in advance, Kittish. Whenever the hell that happens. Get some sleep, you menace.