It's a little past midnight. you wake up with a start. you're shivering. you've just had a nightmare about grilled cheese sandwiches. you panic for several moments until you realize it wasn't real, its ok, you didnt really eat, its ok ok calm calm down it's ok. you can't feel your nose. or your ears or hands or feet. your room is an icebox, an attempt to burn more calories in your sleep. screw this, fuck cold. you crawl out of bed, get dizzy, almost fall on your way to the heater.
you lay in bed for an hour, convulsing from the cold. cold cold fucking cold heater needs to work. now.
you decide you need to move. getting out of bed again makes you want a cigarette. you put on your fat jeans, the ones that used to fit but now barely cling to the bones of your hips. hoodie, hat, open the window, lean out, breathe smokey heat.
everything outside is quiet. the intense, frozen quiet of 1am in december. no wind, no movement. you wish this kind of quiet existed somewhere other than 1am in december. somewhere like, say, inside your head. where everything is scrambled frantic running spinning out of control all the time.
the quiet makes you think of christmas. you listen for a crying baby.
~JH
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