Things I Need

“What are you doing up?”

“I want to get my phone back.”

“Where’d you leave it?”

“Daniel has it.”

“Seriously?  You don’t even need it right now.  It’s 3 in the morning, just go to sleep.”

“I have to set my alarm.”

“I’ll wake you up.  What time?”

“I need to talk to Katherine.”

“Okay use my phone and call her.”

“No, I don’t know her number.”

“Lucky for you she’s my friend too, so I do.”

“I’m leaving.”

“No you are not.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Yes I can.”

“No you- Woah.  Put me down.”

“You aren’t going out on your own until the sun is back up.”

“But I need to.”

“You can get it after you’ve rested.”

“I have to go now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“You do if you want your keys back anytime soon.”

“You suck.”

“Why?”

“I’m not talking about this.”

“You are gonna sit down and explain yourself.”

“I just want my phone back.”

“For?”

“For safety sake.”

“Not good enough.”

“What if my Mom calls?”

“Your phone will be dead anyway.”

“What if there’s a fire?”

“We will all be standing on the street together anyway.”

“What’s really going on here?”

“It’s none of your business.  Now give me my keys.”

“You aren’t even answering my questions.”

“Please stop.”

“Alice, what did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Just talk to me.”

“Stop it.”

“If you just answer me I can help.”

“Oh my God. No.”

“What is going on with you?”

“I have embarrassing things on my phone.”

“And?”

“Daniel has it.”

“Okay.  I’ll be back soon.  Go to bed.”

“But-”

“I won’t mess with it.  Just get some sleep.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll be quick.”

“You better be.  Wake me up when you get back.”

“Only if you actually go to bed.”

“Okay, go.”

2:47am (Character Exercise)

She couldn't usually manage to stay up long enough for him to get home.  Usually, she woke up to the sound of his key scraping around the keyhole.  Usually, he headed straight for his room so she would sit still and pretend like he hadn't woken her.
She hated that word.  Usually.  There was something so tragic about the routine.  It made her sick to her stomach to think of it.
"Goddamn it,  you smell like jet fuel."
Part of her only said it to break the silence.  To let her know she wasn't just being creepy and watching him.  She had been cleaning when he got home.  The kitchen floor stuck to her socks, and the freezer drawers were next to impossible to open and close properly.  Another part of her felt ill, smelling the whiskey from across the room.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He was quiet.  Strangely so.  She'd never seen him quite so still either.
She knew the alcohol was hitting him hard.  She knew, in part at least, why he was drinking.  She hated seeing him so stressed.  There was something sad about it.  He tried to clean himself out, get rid of the stress, but it was still in his eyes, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, premature wrinkles and squinting vision.  It was always there.
But he wasn't there.  His eyes were distant, and she knew for now he'd feel fine.  But he wasn't fixing anything.  He opened and closed his mouth.  Put his hand on his chest, then quickly moved it to his knee as he leaned forward.
"Oh God, please don't throw up.  Please.  I can't clean it up right now.  I'll be sick.  Just -- "
"I'm fine."
"Oh.  Okay."
She considered grabbing the trashcan from the kitchen, debating what he needed more.  Space, company, or something else - what exactly that may be,  she didn't know.
He sat with his head in his hands and tapped his fingers from between chunks of hair.  She took her hand and scratched his back slowly.  Trying to soothe and relax him.  He leaned back and looked back at her.
"What are you thinking about?"
"You're blurry."
"It's okay."
That seemed to be enough for now.
He'd be fine.  He usually was, anyway.

Moving Forward, Eyes Closed. (Voice)

I haven't been sleeping.  It's not because I've been watching tv late into the night.  It isn't because I'm not tired.  I am so tired.
There's a long list of things I need to do.  A long list of things I am trying to do right now.  Things I am trying to be.  Accomplishments I haven't achieved.  Goals I'm not following through on.  Dreams I am forgetting.  Dreams I keep on forgetting when I need them most.
Sundays are my least favorite day.  I'm just wishing I had Saturday all over again so I could do something with my life, or maybe sleep more deeply, or maybe make a list of all the things I have to do to calm me down while I still have time to do it all.  But I don't have the time anymore.  Not really.  I just want to know what I've got to do.  It makes the stress less painful.
I stopped praying and I'm not sure why because I think God is still listening, but I've stopped asking Him for what I want, what I think I need, because I don't know what I want anymore and I don't think about what I need, besides more time, which I sabotage every time I get it, because I don't know what I really have.  I mean I count my blessings every once in a while.  A heartbeat is a blessing, but I've had it for so long, I don't remember what it feels like to recognize how much I need it and how lucky I am, except for when I haven't had it, times I can count on my fingers.
But I'm always thanking God for my feet.  How they move with the ground as I go, even when I'm not paying attention.  How even when I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going, they still seem to know how to get there.  How to continue on, blindly.