Last night I went to bed feeling isolated, alone and like I didn’t want to sleep.I stayed up till 03:30 knowing I had to be up for 06:00 to get to work. I don’t even think that I felt alone and isolated, but those ate the only words that come close to how I felt. I didn’t want to sleep because I didn’t see a reason to. I didn’t see a reason not to either. I mean yeah I had work in the morning and yeah I was tired, but I’d survive. I knew I would, I’ve done worse. So I stayed up, played a video game into the late hours, had shite tv playing in the background. I did this until I got too tired and bored. This was something I hadn’t done in years.
I didn’t recognise myself. I’d have done this every day of every week when I was in school, when I was far less capable of dealing with my depression and everything else. So yeah warning bells were ringing, though not so loud as to wake the neighbours.
I pondered it for a while occasionally returning to a game as I did so. I figured that Belle, my girlfriend, being out of town was probably the cause, but I have had nights without her before and been fine. So it was a contributing cause most likely. But after a while I realised it. I didn’t want to sleep cause that meant waking up, something I’m pretty sure 15 year old me would have known in an instant. Sleeping would mean waking up to go to work and while I don’t mind work, I wasn’t done with my own time. I wanted to stay up out of sheer stubbornness. I even realised that I’d felt this way before with Belle around. But in the end wanting to curl up and with her meant that I never stayed up too late and waking up next to her is better than waking up on my own.
I solved the case, washed some dishes and curled into bed with my kitten. The same kitten that purrs very loudly and likes to attack appendages in the night. It was a very broken 2.5 hours of sleep. I didn’t even get to sleep on the bus to work, it was running late and I was afraid of missing my stop, something I didn’t have to worry about at school. So I stayed awake and ran into the office in time.
As the day trundled on I performed quite well, I needed extra sugar sure, but I didn’t have issues doing my work. During done quiet periods my mind inevitably began to wander. I thought of a much younger me, the emotional explosive wreck that I was as a pre-teen. One particular incident with basketball stuck out (yeah I played basketball… I was cool). I either did or didn’t make a shot in a game of D.O.N.K.E.Y and the other players didn’t believe I did, so I fumed. To be honest I even remember the incident in third person. Like it want even me. But I know it was even if I don’t recognise me.
I got out of work early (woo split shift) and decided to write about it on an old unused blog, written by another me that I barely recognise. Though it’s the me I expect to be, worried, sleepy, naive and confused at being an adult. I don’t know when the change happened, when I stopped being the person that wrote the first post on this blog and started being the person I am today.
There is an old saying that “people never change”. But I know that isn’t true. It’s why I think of my childhood in third person, why I don’t understand what I knew intuitively as a teenager. Why ever time I look in a mirror I’m startled to see a man reason, I instead of the young, naive, lost post-teen or four years prior.
Or maybe I haven’t changed, maybe I’m the same as I’ve always been, just expressed differently.