He couldn’t go to sleep the next night either. It was two consecutive days of feeling frantic. He looked outside his cage-like apartment window, and he couldn’t figure out why he was feeling that way. Was it because he was existing, yet no one was aware of it?
Dying each day, yet no one was documenting it?
Whether he lived or died, who else cared but himself? Would she care? She was the stripper that he loved whom others probably loved as well.
‘Probably for a short time,’ he thought. He sat down on his sofa in dismay. He essentially had nothing to feel excited about. His thoughts were sporadic. He knew he was wasting his time just sitting down on the sofa, but there was nothing else to do. He couldn’t sleep, he didn’t want to exercise, he didn’t want to eat. ‘Just sporadic thoughts is what it is’ he thought to himself.
Among one was a memory of a time he had made out with a girl on a sofa. It was old, ugly, and dirty; the couch was. It was brown and it had patterned fabric linings. He even remembered the carpet in front of him. The television set was old and clunky, like back in the day. It was daylight, and the curtains were drawn. The television was playing sports. He could remember every detail about the place, but not the girl. ‘Maybe she wasn’t important’ he thought to himself. ‘Wait, I actually despised her’ he remembered. She was the one who initiated the first kiss. He was taken aback by that, and her. It was a short-term affair that didn’t go anywhere. One, among countless affairs he has had. It would have been hard to remember all of that.
He went to the bathroom and brushed and flossed his teeth. He then looked at himself in the mirror. He wondered how he managed to do all that. He saw a man with stubble on his face and few grey hairs. He also had bags underneath his eyes. He turned off the light and walked out. He planned to lay on the bed in the dark until he fell asleep. He tried thinking about her, the stripper whom who loved, but it just made things more frustrating. The real solution was ‘complexity.’ ‘To think and to over think, until one became tried and able to drift to sleep without knowledge’ he thought. So he thought and thought, and thought.