2am Part 2 . Makes Even Less Sense

Minutes creep into hours, into days of unreturned sex. As I attempt to sleep, so many thoughts battle for space in my head, I let them all in. I'm a hoarder of thoughts. Why do I always fall in love with people who don't love me back? At least in "Say Anything" when Llyod gives his heart to Diane, she gives him a pen. I never have enough pens. Of course, through movie magic bullshit, they also fall in love and fly off to Europe together. What they don't show you is that fifteen years later, Llyod is fat and bald, they have three obnoxious children, and Diane bangs the pool boy while Llyod works overtime to pay their mortgage. Why don't you take me to Europe? You don't even take me to seedy hotels in Columbia Heights anymore. I can quit gluten, I can quit clove cigarettes, I can quit sugar, but why can't I quit you? I blame the cold of this god forsaken place for all my irrational decisions. The best thing is to walk away now before we conceive one of those accidental babies that are more common than the cold this time of year. I'll keep telling myself I just wanted to cuddle and stay warm. I'll buy myself a Snuggie and hold it as tightly as I do all of my illusions.

It's 2am, and I Can't Sleep. If This Makes Sense, I'm Sorry

2am, in bed fully clothed, complete with scarf, coat , mittens. Is my radiator not working, or is it just the coldness of my heart that has seeped through and saturated my entire being? I remember a few weeks ago in your cold, bedroom, you tried to spoon me. You never touch me after sex so right away I knew something was wrong. You just wanted to stay warm, but I pretended that you just wanted to cuddle. Sometimes that's my motive for having sex, the hope that it will lead to cuddling. If that ever got out it would ruin my street whore cred. You actually covered me up again when I had fallen asleep and kept kicking my blankets off. I'm always shocked when you do something so thoughtful. Last time I slept over, you almost punched me in your half sleeping state because when I got up to leave for work, you could "hear my shoes clickety clacking across the floor." I wish you could hear my soul breakety breaking across town as I try to sleep. I keep inviting you to sleep over for the extra body heat which is pretty ridiculous considering how skinny we both are. Can two twigs rubbed together still make a fire?