that’s what i’ve decided. i concluded on 4 a.m. as i padded downstairs in silence this morning at 4 a.m. to fix myself a glass of chocolate milk to go w/all the ibuprofen i was taking for my three-day migraine [finally breaking as i write this; word to the wise, always take ibuprofen (i.e. advil/motrin) w/food or milk or you'll eventually wind up on the verge of a stomach ulcer like yours truly)].
i hate being up in the middle of the night when i’m not supposed to, as opposed to, say, partying til 4 a.m. which maybe–maybe? but probably not–i did in college? anyway, being unwillfully woken up by head pain has been happening to me a lot over the past few years as i wade thru these terrible headaches of mine. it’s the craziest thing: even tho i have a wonderful partner asleep next to me, i still feel so doggone lonely in the middle of the night.
i’ve always been the same. as a kid when i couldn’t fall asleep, my comforting thought was the 24-hour diner just up our street and around the corner. other ppl were up, i would tell myself. waitresses and cooks and customers. it wasn’t just me.
so i’m older and wiser and braver now, but that little kid is still in there. so as i lay awake for hours last night trying to relax and fall back asleep so i could wake up headache-free (didn’t happen), i thought about being up in the middle of the night and how it sucks (i think too much, i know). all my stirring, of course, woke up holly (i stir a lot w/these headaches; it’s just so hard to get comfortable. if you get bad headaches, i’m sure you know what i’m talking about). i was happy to have the company, as happy as i could be, considering the circumstances.
“4 a.m. is the loneliest hour,” i said in a whisper even tho there wasn’t anyone else around i could wake up.
“3 a.m. is pretty lonely, too,” she said, half-asleep cuddled next to me.
we agreed that 2 a.m. to 4 a.m. are the loneliest hours. i figured i’d share all of this w/you to get your thoughts. tell me your loneliest hour.
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