Tremor

It’s crazy. I lived in LA for 5 years before moving up north, earthquakes I’m used to, but here, here in the city, it doesn’t feel the same, totally not the same.

It might be because I’m sleepless again. My hyper thyroid was acting up. I thought I had it beat. Two years of some experimental Japanese treatment worn off. Hoped it would be the cure. It wasn’t, it’s back. That equates to me up at night. Sometimes I could cheat and get to sleep quick. You know, responding to yourself when you’re actually sleepy. But most of the time, my body is awake, a touch of apprehension, a pinch of adrenaline, and my mind, it’s in no state to sleep. Basically, it’s that feeling you get when you wake up from a nap, a good nap, after spending all night studying. You feel okay. You could use more time sleeping, but your body won’t let you. The sun’s out, your mouth’s dry, and you got that imaginary hand squeezing your brain. Yeah. That feeling. But it’s like 2am and I’m lying in bed sensing everything around me. My covers tickling the hairs on my legs. The dusty scent lingering in the air. The feint voices from my neighbors. My senses were all awake but I wanted to sleep. I needed to sleep.

And of course, it hits then. It’s more than subtle. A vibration rocking everything around my bed. I can feel my arms bouncing. But it wasn’t strong enough to shake anything around me. Not quite dramatic like the ones in LA.

It lasted for about 30 seconds.

Yeah. Whatever.

Not quite the same.

But I had to do what I always do when I go through an earthquake. Look it up the next day. Many thanks to http://earthquake.usgs.gov for keeping everything updated. If you ever saw LA’s map, there’s always an earthquake somewhere. It’s quite colorful. For San Francisco, it’s not as exciting. Especially that morning. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. A couple of futile refreshes later, I knew.

Fuck. Here I go again. Time for a new place. I better get into a newer place this time.

Crisp Cold Sheets

I couldn’t believe it. I was there, next to her. Just the both of us, lying there, on the bed. I was facing her, on my side, to my right. She was there.

We were both naked. Our sweat was now cold. Barely any warmth left to justify lying there without a blanket. But still we didn’t want to move or do anything. Her breathing was finally calm, my heart though was still racing. I cupped her left shoulder and ran my hand across her smooth skin. My finger tips glided along her collar and found their way to the middle of her chest until I held her breast. Her hand met mine and our fingers interlocked.

I didn’t recall anything before this. Sad, I know, but I didn’t care. What I cared about was here. Here before me. It was here.

I hadn’t seen her for years. Not that I would, after all we had broken up. She wanted to stay out of my life. Even away from any of my friends. And no, it wasn’t a bad break up, it was kinda mutual. Mutual at that time for me, even when she was the one leaving.

When you’re naive it’s fine. People around you are glad to help. Sure, some people take that opportunity to have a laugh. But if you’re naive with some sense in you, you’d surround yourself with nice people. People who wouldn’t do that and evidently, people who are kind enough to overlook your faults, which also means you never hear about them. And me, I had plenty of faults, the big one though, was being naive about yourself. I had a huge case of that. Something no one really wants to help out with. Most evolved to calling it clueless, inconsiderate, moronic, the list goes on. I still call it naive. Because it’s a state your in when you’re growing up. When you learn about what you did wrong, you grow, and most likely, you won’t be like that again.

It was too good. This couldn’t be happening, not to me, not deserving. I know her. This was a dream, a cruel dream, an opportune dream, I couldn’t decide. But once you know, you know what’s next, awakening.

I didn’t want to.

My old bed felt familiar, the nappy sheets crimped up under me, my rough comforter under my hands . I fought to stay asleep. I was happy there, a few more seconds, a few more minutes, I wanted to stay, even if it meant dying in my sleep, that was good enough. Maybe I could stay in this limbo, unlikely I know, being Catholic and all. But at least I didn’t have to wake up to my life without her.

My eyes were swollen.

I haven’t felt that happy in years.