[SP EXCLUSIVE]

There are the nightmares, or whatever they are: Jump up at night for no reason at all and find yourself sitting upright in bed. Doctor says take 4 or 5 a day; I’m doing 7 or 8. Never sleep. Never eat. Sit at the kitchen table staring at nothing at 5:48 a.m. My mom’s in town, comes out, says, “You up already?” I just nod. Sure.

I don’t manage loud noises well. Arguments, too. Bills are heavy; a roof’s a heavy thing to keep over your head. Our babies in their cribs. Run 3 miles on the treadmill before you realize there’s nothing chasing you. Humbert Humbert. I won’t lie; there’s a part of me that gets him, confused and guilt-ridden. Poor old Madame Bovary, bored out of her wits, taking another trip to the mall, anything to make the numbness go away. All of them hoping someone’s gonna swoop them up and solve it (whatever it is).

Sit in dark rooms watching movies we’re not really watching, or posting on Web sites we don’t really like, masturbating (again), kicking bottles and keys every time we walk across our rooms, and going mad on trains and busses. Broken hearts. Unused hearts. Hearts opened wide as eyes searching for a decent hug.