a room of my own
i think that with every time i (rarely (sorry)) share my writing on here it gets more and more personal and frankly it's a little concerning but surely i will not stop
i have a room of my own but it is not my own enough. i’d like to have a room of my own enough to be naked in. to fuck someone in. to fuck myself in. to wake up in the morning clothed in just the thin sheets and the early daylight shards streaking in. i’d like a room of my own enough to enjoy a natural silence— the created silence buzzes a static nothing that burns my ears (and i tolerate it anyway because it’s pleasanter than the noises of Their life that it blocks out.) i’d like a room my own enough to journal truthfully. i’d like a room my own enough to be naked. i’d like. room my own enough to pop the cork out the second bottle of wine without fear of judgement. i’d like a room my own enough to read rimbaud. i’d like a room my own enough to read dostoevsky. i’d like a room my own enough to read lispector. lispector is one of my favorite authors and i’ve read at least four or five books of hers but always, always i’ve had to read them Outside. i’d like a room my own enough to use for more than just sleep— generally the only time i spend in here is the period of time that has the smallest potential to make me feel disrupted (although it does always disrupt me anyway— i fall asleep disrupted and wake disrupted— (oh how it must feel to not be dirsupted that is all i want just a room of my own enough to be undisrupted to be predisrupted to be antidisrupted)— and god fuck, most of the time, my schedule has me going to bed late (out at the dive bar again and again 3 beers with the sad old alcoholic men of main street) or waking up early enough to where you’d think i’d be able to avoid It (the disruptions)— but like i said i still am always disrupted anyway— and—even if i wasn’t— god fuck i shouldn’t have to use so much effort to (unsuccessfully) avoid it anyway ! oh. i think. i think i haven’t gotten a truly good night of sleep in months. (maybe 21 years but i’ll just say a few months.) fuck everything else i would like a room my own enough to just give me a decent night of sleep god oh god i am so fatigued fuck nakedness fuck fucking i just need a good sweet night of sleep. i’ve been trying to put my pennies away into a pink piggy bank to get out of here because in my heart of hearts i actually know that really i won’t get that restful night of sleep that i’m aching for until i’m so far away that i couldn’t even possibly come back “home” immediately even if i (ha) wanted to. i dream of that night of sleep. i dream of what those dreams would be could be. i dream.
