Here's something I wrote a while back sitting in bed at night:
3:18AM. That is what the clock read as I sat up in my bed. I lived in downtown New York at the time. A man with strong values, a good job, and a decent wage – without a girl. Call me old fashioned, but I don’t believe in marriage. Ever since my parents got divorced when I was 7, I made a promise to myself that I would never get married just to avoid the shit they went through. I lasted ‘til I was 21. It was the middle of June, and I was in Vegas for a friend’s wedding (cliché, I know). I was drunk and met this chick, we hit it off, and the next day we found ourselves in one of those cheap-ass wedding chapels where the man marrying you is 45+ years old and is dressed in nostalgic Elvis clothes. In short, we lasted for about a month when I found out she’d been cheating on me for about 3 weeks. Talk about women with short attention spans.
I got up from my half-sitting-half-standing position and turned on my night table light. Something remarkable struck me about this apartment – no matter how many lights you had turned on through the whole apartment, shadows still crept in the corners. I wish life had subtitles, ‘cause then when you’re talking to your immigrated Russian landlord, you could actually tell what she was saying. I walked into the kitchen and turned on the tap, waited for the water to cool, and took a sip. Something about ice cold water running down your throat in the middle of the night makes every single nerve in your body stand on edge. It’s like that feeling you get when you know you’re being watched and you don’t want to turn around because you know there’s a guy in a mask holding a knife ready to gut you. I think I’ve been watching too many horror movies. That would explain the irregular sleeping habits.
