It’s Late

I have this urge to do things I shouldn’t do. Like drink four cups of coffee at midnight when I have to get up early. It’s a way of testing boundaries, much like toddlers and teenagers are known for doing. My private theory of personality disorders is that they are a simple failure to mature.

Boundaries have always been a fascinating issue for me. It seems like they’re so clear for most people. This is where I stop and you begin. This is what I made up and that is what happened. These are my feelings and that is reality. It’s like it’s always raining in my brain; the lines in the sand become muddy and blurred.

The first time I crossed over one of my life’s boundaries was when I dropped out of college. I never knew before that you could just step off the train. It’s kind of an intoxicating feeling. Your future is just gone, and you’re left with this floating kind of present.

You can jump off at any point. I’ve jumped and landed in the hospital. That was a different kind of neverland. It was still a world – not a free fall or an empty space – but a self-contained world, a subterranean one. There are these pockets, between and below and above the world you live in. Well, at this point, the ones above are theoretical. I like to think they exist.

Alcohol used to be my way of finding those spaces. It created a trapdoor, a space inside of my head that was nowhere and everything. Sometimes I get mad that I can’t/don’t do that anymore. Sometimes it makes me feel lonely, hollow.

So I drink coffee all night. I’m seeking a new buzz forged from sleep deprivation and caffeine and sugar, a late-night third grade slumber party high. My sleeping bag is my couch and my best friends are all in my head. We are gossiping about memories and doing things we shouldn’t.