Page 19 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
I shrug and eat another Taki.
It really is.
8
When You Stay Up All Night Contemplating Running Away with Olivia Rodrigo
Lack Of Sleep
This whole week and into the weekend, it’s been the same every night. The Thoughts creep their way into my brain while I lie in my bed desperately covering my ears with my pillow. But like every other night, The Thoughts bleed through the fabric.
If I don’t hurry up and think about something else, I might do something I can’t take back, so I take a deep breath and think about solutions instead of focusing on the problem, just like therapist number three suggested. Jamal said he understood, so I should take him at his word. And I can’t date him again, so I might as well move on, right?
I just need to find a girlfriend to get all this guilt off my back.
But I don’t want a girlfriend.
I want a Jamal.
But I also can’t want a Jamal.
I need a girlfriend.
Ugh.
I try a different approach, plugging my ears with my AirPods and playing Olivia Rodrigo.
It’s easier to listen to breakup music and imagine that Jamal did something wrong so I can get over him. Maybe one day I’ll find myself an Olivia Rodrigo to run away with. Maybe I won’t have this empty hole in my chest forever.
I’m still awake when the sun comes up on Monday, but I eagerly jump out of bed and put on my Slayton uniform. It’s a lot easier to shake off The Thoughts when the sun is up.
I go to the bathroom and find myself staring at the Mayan Code of the Heart, In Lak’ech Ala K’in, on the mirror. I typed the famous poem out underneath it and put it up there after my dad got taken away, and I haven’t been able to touch it since.
In Lak’ech
Tú eres mi otro yo / You are my other me.
Si te hago daño a ti / If I do harm to you,
Me hago daño a mí mismo / I do harm to myself.
Si te amo y respeto / If I love and respect you,
Me amo y respeto yo / I love and respect myself.
When I first put it up, it was my way of trying to reconnect with my dad since he was obsessed with that poem. Him being the reason I put this up makes me want to tear it down, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Over the years, it’s kind of taken on a life of its own, and it’s more of mine and Yami’s thing now than my dad’s.
I shake off all thoughts of him and check myself out in the mirror to make sure I don’t look as sleep-deprived as I am. My bloodshot eyes are the only things that really give me away, so I splash some water on my face and put in some eye drops. Voilà.Looking at my bad self, you’d think I would’ve had at least eight sweet and dreamy hours of beauty sleep.
The door that leads into Yami’s room opens, and she groggily walks into the bathroom. Yami, on the other hand, looks like she slept a good twenty, but “beauty” is not the word I’d use here. Her hair’s all disheveled and one eye is still half closed.
“You look like if a mop and the chupacabra had a baby on your head.” I offer her a brush, then wipe the eyedrop tears from my cheeks. Her mouth twitches into a smile, and she shoves my shoulder.
“I know it can be overwhelming looking at such unfiltered beauty, but you don’t have to cry about it.” She takes the brush from my hand and starts working on her hair.
I just laugh, rolling my eyes as I reach for the toothpaste.
“Anyways, you sleep okay?” she asks through a yawn. I stick my toothbrush in my mouth instead of answering her straight, and shrug. She must have noticed something’s been off with me lately. I think this is her way of asking if I’m okay since she knows it makes me less prickly than outright asking.
