The reason why I need 5 shots in my Americano

I’m up and it is 2 AM yet again.

Damn, I really do wish that yesterday had been Monday because Tuesday is the only day I don’t have an 8 AM.

But oh well,

It wouldn’t help anyway so what am I supposed to say.

I can’t sleep now, I wouldn’t be able to sleep then for fear of the nightmares that hunt me down and devour me just like he would have done if one of my friends hadn’t found out what he was scheming and hidden me from him better than the sun hides the moon in the day.

  It’s 3 AM now, I still lie awake and think to myself everyone tells you it’s okay to be afraid but no one really means it because twelve months later I’m expected to be okay. He stalked me an entire semester, hid behind the bushes where I stood in car riders and waited for me there and they expect the not so subtle reminders of it’s okay you are safe, you never have to go back to that timeframe will simply wipe it away. But the irony is at least they got one thing correct I never have to go back to that extended time frame because I never left it in the first place.

4 AM comes and I have resorted to counting the mountains of the crickle crackle popcorn ceiling that hangs above my head like the night sky and I pretend I’m looking for constellations to distract me from the need to look into the corner of my roommates side of the room confirming her housecoat isn’t the shadow of man because everytime I look I still see a man and have to hold back screams of someone help me please. Then, God forbid I turn on the lamp because it casts a shadow of my own face and I have to tell myself that it’s just a shadow, a trick of the universe, a simple absence of light, the only thing left untainted, a ghost of the girl who I used to be before some psychopath came after me.

5 AM and just like always I’ve ended up staring at the door getting up and down checking the lock like clock work 1,2,3,4… when it gets to 5 I just cave and go sit in the cushy green chair in my hallway that brings me comfort of the tiniest ounce of because stupid as it sounds it reminds me of the 100 which just so happens to be my favorite show and well now we all know what Bellamy Blake has to say on nightmares and fear, so it’s stupid but hey I’m taking whatever works right now. Now comes the time when I pray my RA doesn’t find me on her rounds and shew me back to my room scolding “what are you doing up right now! Don’t you have a class at 8 in the fricken morning!”. Then all there is left to do is patiently wait for 7 AM to show it’s face and jump at every sound the night makes.

When the morning comes I’ll drag myself into my room to hide the night by carefully layer concealer and foundation onto my face, because they look at me like I’m a leader , telling me I am strong and they are proud to see me standing here… standing without fear.

I guess when the make up companies said full coverage they weren’t cheating me out because I’m always terrified, I can’t even close my eyes, but it seems to cover just fine. It is either that or I’m a fairly good actress which seems impossible to see because everyone figured out how to find the crack in my smile after only knowing me a week so it couldn’t possibly be.

    Oh and incase you were wondering I almost always wore jeans, nikes, and a jacket I kept zipped but maybe we are back in the 1800’s so showing a hint of your ankle was promiscuous.