It’s early in the day. Late in the night. Either way, I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because the wind’s really loud. I can’t sleep because the room’s really cold. I can’t sleep because I’m afraid to talk to my girlfriend. I can’t sleep because I’m afraid I can’t talk to my dead friend. I can’t relate but I can understand on some level why the previous tenant was an alcoholic. Therefore depressed. Today’s the last day of the last year of the last decade things really felt like the past. 2013 still feels like it was a last year type of year. Now I’m supposed to believe that 2023 is just around the corner. I joke about it in stage, but I feel super self-conscious about not being enough for 2020 being that I still have 20/40 vision. That goes for a lot of things. My relationships. My career. My family. My place in the workforce. My essence as a man. My piss in the jar. It just all still feels out of place. I’m not excited about the future because I still don’t presently know what has passed. Am I even going through any real trauma like some friends I know who have cutthroats and corruption on their tails? Or is this all just a goddamn simulation? AI is real. I am fake. This is all so stupid. What we all believe in seems as stupid. As futile. As unnecessarily telling that our continued existence, relatively speaking, is going to be pretty short. Not for the reasons anyone else thinks either. God, it’s so cold. I wish she was here right now. But my tract is trapped by a feeling of uneasiness, as I so “cleverly” put in a juvenile video so long ago, that I can hardly communicate. I’ll send something. She’ll ignore it in her sleep. (Which is to say I’m an outlier to think texting right now is effective.) I’ll see her the next day. Kiss her as softly I can, as I’ve been practicing on the inside row of my teeth. Hope to God she doesn’t wipe away the intentionally dry affection. I put too much pressure. I’m losing blood as an effect of such madness. It’s bothersome. I’m going to go walk outside for some minutes. Just to feel on the outside as I soon the inside. I don’t want to fail my father. Am I running a mock these days? My eyelids hurt whether I close them or open them. As does my knee. My stupid knee. I’m going to be okay. But I don’t know if I’m going to be enough. We’ll see. Who takes this so seriously anyhow? It’s a new year every day. Won’t stop me from catching up on Family Guy cutaways. My girlfriend deserves respect. I’ll give her that.