From 3 to 5 in the morning

I woke up soaking wet in the middle of the night. It's 3 in the morning and it's impossible to sleep under this humid hot weather. Yesterday felt like the hottest day of the year. Most of the districts are in red alert and the temperature is close to 40ºC. 

    Tonight there is no let up on the oppressive heat.

    My body is so sticky and I can smell my own sweat in the air. My skin is glued to the couch and I can feel the insects crawling on my arms and legs, trying to find their way through my body hair.  They occasionally bite and I try to kill them - but I can't see a thing, so I swat at them blindly only to end up slapping myself.

    Everything is so uncomfortable. I'm distressed and agitated. Huffing and puffing, my patience is fading. My window is wide open so the wind might get in, but it seems like it's even worst outside. So I close it. 

    I go, barefoot, to the other room to get the fan and I press the timer for 40 minutes. I lay back on the couch and cover myself under the sheets even though I'm hot and dying of thirsty. 

    There's something cosy about sheets. I need them no matter the temperature. Some weeks ago I found out that there's such a thing as sand sheets. They are really heavy and supposed to make you feel safer and secure while sleeping. The idea behind it is to resemble the human touch. And I miss the embrace. But they were just too heavy for me. Too tight of a hug, I guess. I also need freedom. I'm already too used to my own space.

    Insomnia comes too frequently lately. Almost every night. I reply to some text messages to tire my eyes out and try and fall asleep, but I quickly shut the phone down because it's attracting the mosquitos. I consider working out. I do that now and then when I can't sleep and it works. I just workout for 30 minutes to fatigue my body out so it gets easier to enter the dreamless dreamy world. Then I don't have to wake up earlier to complete the task and I allow myself to sleep longer.

    I don't feel like doing that today, even though I probably will. 

    There's this alternate scenario where I get up, go to the frigde for a cold soda, leftover cod from dinner, a slice of smoked ham and some lettuce. It's not the best selection, but don't expect me to create great menus at 4am. Or maybe do. Perhaps this haphazard meal is what fine cuisine is all about. I would then put on some podcast and begin my training.

    But now. Here. Typing. I'm enjoying the easefulness of this early morning writing. It suits me. I missed writing. I'm alone with myself. Lost in my own thoughts. Engaging in a real conversation. But I'm starting to bore my other half. I have so many questions for him and he doesn't give me any answers. And when he does, they're contradictory and uncreative. The other guy is not as helpful as I wished. He has zero clues. He confuses me. I know he's expecting the same level of expertise from me but I also can't give him what he wants.

    He has questions. He has self doubts. And not many people outside of ourselves can relate to those problems. Sometimes they don't even seem like real problems compared to everything that is happening in the world. But knowing that doesn't solve any issues He/I might have. It doesn’t give either of us any solace. 

    He wants to travel. To work. To speak a different language and to make love with his own. He wants to be a part of a team he can call a family and be in tune with the people around him. He wants to learn. To uplevel his kindred spirits. And to connect.

    It's 5am now. And he wants to connect.