The sprinklers come on at 4am.

Tuesday night I couldn't sleep. At all. It didn't even feel like my eyes were glued open against my will  or anything. I was just wide awake.
I didn't fight it for once. My roommate was up late to study but even she threw in the towel at about 2:30am, so I made a nest in the study room.

I finally got around to eating my feelings.

Excerpt from email I sent to Jenna at about 12:30am yesterday morning:

Gah, I'm crawling out of my fucking skin. I can't take this. I want to grab Mike's face and yell "DO YOU LIKE ME AS MORE THAN A FRIEND, YES OR NO?" and make him say one or the other so I can KNOW.
That doesn't mean we have to do anything about it. I just want to know how to interpret all this shit that may or may not mean anything different now that we're both single and that is at present the mental equivalent of banging my head against the desk.
I asked him to go see Inception at the RuHo on Friday, because it's free and we see the good ones when we can and I thought the walk back to his car (a shitty white Cutlass that always takes two or three turnovers to actually start--oh, God. I'm mythologizing his car. MAYDAY, Jenna.) I could ask him exactly that. He said "Maybe. Can I get back to you?" Sometimes he goes home for the weekend; maybe he was freaked out by Thursday. WHAT DOES IT MEAN??
But I can't even ask, however innocuous I want to sound, because it will always sound like I'm gunning for him. And now he's invited my suite mate, whom it turns out we both know (and I hate. There. I said it. I hate her. She has no sense of social clues whatsoever, and every time I use our shared bathroom I can hear her yapping loudly about nothing). I found out through the suite mate.
I. don't. want. to care. This feels like detox sounds, all twitchy and anxious and meanwhile I can barely look at BF's Facebook feed because it sounds so cheerful and it makes me feel like an awful person but I want to know he's as unhappy as I am so I can recognize that we actually MEANT something to each other once upon a week ago.

FUCK FUCK FUCK *bambambam*
*Breathe*

Things got better. After I decided to just stay up all night, after I finished off a jar of ranch dip with Food Lion brand tortilla chips, after I read about Mr. Rochester's secret lunatic wife (and really, how easy does the damn fool give up the ghost, as it were, after he's just straight up asked?), I did get sleepy, so I eased into my dark quiet dorm room and bed and slept for about four hours.

Yesterday I was euphoric for a couple hours in the afternoon. Yeah. Euphoric. I said it. On the way to Pysch 101 the world seemed kind and full of possibilities. I was also listening to the Killers' Hot Fuss and rediscovering why I still love that album.

This is/was my first relationship. I should mention that. I've stopped hanging out with people--friends--before but not with someone I've loved and been best friends with and know how his morning face looks for three years. Oh.