You wake up hours before your alarm is set to go off, eager, anxious and maybe even a little optimistic, misguided as your often justifiably pessimistic temperament tries to tell you it is to feel even an inkling of that emotion.
There’s the potential that overnight while you have been restlessly and fitfully drifting in and out of consciousness, things have changed, that the pendulum has swung back in what you would call your favor — and they have decided to rekindle a conversation that on their end has become mostly ashes and a few embers left (you think) intentionally glowing.
It’s kind of counterintuitive (not to mention potentially detrimental to overall mental health), but there’s a pretty direct correlation between how frequently you check your phone and their gradual lapse in communication.
The less they text, the more you hope they will — and the more you will try to will it into existence.
You know this is not at all the way it should be.
There are, not surprisingly, but sadly, no pertinent notifications.
You lie back down on your pillow nearly drenched in sweat and close your eyes, though you know sans doubt that you’re not falling back asleep in the two hours and change you have left before you have to get out of bed and attempt to make your way through a day of work that will undoubtedly be rife with distraction as you continuously check your phone and indulge in frequent thought spirals.
And now fatigue will be added to the mix.
Your thoughts during these early morning hours are often a loop of something sort of like this: The bottom fell the fuck out, buddy. Now it’s time to incessantly question what you did or did not do to get to this point, which is a definite lapse in communication that will probably endure. Bet you can’t wait to randomly think about this person and concoct theories for what you may have done wrong every so often over the next few weeks or months or maybe, in some cases, years, depending on your level of sensitivity at the moment and your level of interest in this person.