I can’t stand the rustle of paper. The crinkle of a plastic bottle in your hands upon suction, that resonant gulp. Shuffling, the repeated shutting of the door and the intermittent illumination of the left side of the room. I can just see you, the tap running, the buzzing of the electric toothbrush. That loud fucking voice two rooms over. The laughter.
I think about how I could phrase it in the nicest way possible and fuss over the delivery. But it’s 2am. I shouldn’t have to. And to make matters worse, I have to wake up early tomorrow. Maybe: “can you guys please keep it down? Thanks!” but I don’t think I can say it without closing the bathroom door a second too soon- unapologetically, before they react. I’m too used to apologizing before making a request.
I didn’t mind that sleep crept painfully slowly with you. The alarm was set at 7:45- but we both knew we wouldn’t be up for another half hour. And I’d find myself tired and blinking at the walls, wondering how much longer we had until daylight. I’d shuffle and try my left side. Sometimes you’d come in closer, and one arm I’d hug close to my chest like I used when I didn’t know how to sleep alone. And by the time the alarm sounds, I’d question whether or not I ever really fell asleep. I know I took from you too and I am not sorry.