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Hipstercrite Life

The Crack-Up


The past couple of nights I haven’t felt my strongest.

As I mentioned before, my boyfriend, who I’ve spent nearly every day with since we first met, has left for Portugal for three months. Since I work freelance from the house, I find myself with more alone time than I did before I met Geoff. We don’t have a TV, so there isn’t the omnipresent media voice protecting me from my own thoughts.

Actually, that’s a lie. There is a TV. It’s upstairs in the bedroom, but I refuse to sleep there. I sleep on the couch downstairs because I feel safer there. Upstairs I have no control of what is going on downstairs.

This logic makes no sense.

But back to being alone with your thoughts. It’s a dangerous pastime when you have an overactive imagination. It can be paralyzing. You can absolutely convince yourself of something because all you’re doing hyper-focusing on that thought.

Every night, every damn fucking night, I’m convinced that someone is going to break in. I hear a noise (more…)