i just feel like rambling.

it's 1:15 a.m. by no means is that considerably late for me. i don't know what kind of sleeping schedule is ingrained in me but no matter how much i try to fix it i always end up awake at the darkest hours of the night as the rest of the house goes quiet with sleep and still asleep at disgustingly late hours of the morning (usually close to afternoon). you could say i've always been somewhat of a night owl but i blame my recent (as in this past year) patterns of sleep on my patterns of thought. that must sound weird, even at this hour, but it makes sense to me. i mean, what is that keeps us up on those nights before that nerve-wracking first day of school or nights before your birthday or that exciting trip you've been counting down the days to go on? most likely, it's your mind going 100 miles an hour thinking about the day to come and all the possibilities and what may or may not happen and how long you've been waiting and on and on and on...such stimulating thoughts are bound to keep someone all riled up even in day time. they don't allow for cracks in the wall or crevices that your brain can seep through and slowly drive your thoughts off into tangents and away, away, away...until you drift off into a deep slumber in a world far distant from where your mind was just a moment ago. when i am so actively thinking about something or mulling over something in my life that has been bothering me, it's hard to let my brain wander and allow myself to check out and in to sleep mode. it doesn't help that i do the majority of my thinking at night. that could hold true for many, many people but it is so overwhelmingly true for me that it has, in fact, affected my sleep.

this brings me to you. i'll feel okay. i'll feel good. we're doing good. we're solid. no room to think, over think, over analyze...nothing to scrutinize. no complaints. then a bump. not even a bump...a misstep? an awkward shuffle in steps due to clumsy feet...a joke gone awry. a weirdness sets in. i can feel it. i definitely feel it. like its blaring right in front of my face. you feel it too? probably. you know you over think too so you would never ever let yourself address it. normalcy seems forced. feigned conversations out of habit. i think, think, think. i don't like when it's like this. for every good chunk of time, why do we retreat a little at some point. it feels strained and it makes me miss you. i shouldn't. ridiculous -- it hurts to know you don't completely and fully trust me. you tell me you do. numerous times. but i can feel it. the restrain, words withheld. three and a half months ago you told me it wasn't the right time, it would take a lot to finally come to a point where you can tell me. i don't know what sort of standards i have to reach to earn that. and then hearing bits of something else from accidental words let slipped brings me to halt. what is it that keeps you from opening up to me in these times? what kind of restrictive filter do you have set up between us that picks and chooses where you let me in and where you put up the defenses? you can't let me in past a certain point and then somehow make me step back, out the door, and shut it for whatever period of time. it is these times that make me think. contemplate. scrutinize. question myself. what is it about me that brings about doubt in you. you keep me guessing. i don't know how to be around you at times like these. i don't know how to be myself. i don't know how to be. my thoughts are consumed. my mind is racing. i toss and i turn and i toss and i turn and i am restless. restless in my thoughts. you're the reason my thought pattern, as i've termed it, is the way it is. you're the reason. you. you you you you you. you. you. you. you.

i need a job. early shift. 8, maybe 9 a.m. until 4 or 5. get sidetracked by hanging out or something or another after if i'm lucky. go home, eat, occupy myself with random pointless activities via computer or t.v. and then be so incredibly and terribly exhausted that the mere touch of my head to the pillow will have me out cold so fast that i don't even remember the act of falling asleep the next morning as i wake up. no room for thinking.

it's 3:04 a.m.