Insomnolence

I remember laying in my best friend’s bed one night.

She fell asleep before me as usual, chanelling in and out of nighttime jiberish

I remember resting my thigh against the bare white wall in an attempt to cool off from the encompassing Arizona heat.

I remember the dryness of my tongue—a common side affect of Quinn being hydro flask-deprived.

I remember the subtle taste of grape in my mouth from the dissolving melatonin I had just taken.

I remember my cheeks itching from dry tears.

And I remember thinking nobody loves me.

Nobody loves me.