I can't sleep again tonight. My head is going in circles.
Yesterday evening, at work, Ross was on the phone with his boyfriend. My envy and want must have shown on my face... as soon as he finished being loving and so on with the guy, he hung up and said, "You'll have it too, someday."
He then went on to tell me that I needed to start enjoying myself and having lots of sex... but no moment with him is ever pure. I separate out his eggs of advice, take the yolks rather than the whites.
In that moment there was no way to say what I'm saying here, tonight, when I still can't sleep:
I don't believe you. I don't know how. I can't ever have what you have. What I'm pretty sure Margaret has. What every single fucking person I interact with has. I'm going to wake up in the middle of the night, shaking with residual fear and fading bad dreams, and I will be all by myself. No one will be here to comfort me. The converse is also true: no one will be here for me to comfort.
I want things to be distinct. To stop bleeding over into one another.