5:10 p.m. - 2005-04-12
Getting It Out of My System.
Crying oneself to sleep is a misnomer, if such a word may be applied to a whole phrase. If only sleep were involved--then it would be worth it.

But, as it turns out, one stays awake 'til 5am for all the damp and the squashed sounds, thinking about the wretchedness of it all, and of the cruel, preternaturally bright moonlit-effect created by the streetlight, and the crushing need for pale but opaque curtains, and wondering if the jackass new-neighbor in the next apartment is sleeping on the couch after another fight with his shrieking wife, and thereby may judge me if I am less than silent with the weeping.

Though perhaps he could join me through the wall and we would have a nice cry a deux, and never speak of it--quite comfortably--having never come face to face to begin with.

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