Oh, you just got my texts? My texts from 2:14AM? Yeah, that’s a hard pass from me, you can’t answer those right now—at 10AM the next day? Are you kidding? I’m a new woman, sorry, no. I drank coffee, I’m hydrated, I’m wearing real pants—2AM me is dead.
I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to send you an essay on what the worst case scenario trajectory of my life could be, but it suuuuuuuure as hell wasn’t me. You’re concerned because I’m still in love with him? No, that’s 2AM me. You never thought that I’d be this filled with existential dread? You think it’s weird I’d stake my ultimate happiness on other people/achieving unachievable goals? You’re worried? SHUT UP. None of this is real.
It was a different me, lying in bed and staring at my ceiling because my melatonin wasn’t working. It was dark and quiet and my eyes were shriveling up from staring at my phone screen and I intentionally made myself think about things that stress me out for reasons unbeknownst to regular me. I hate 2AM me, ignore 2AM me.
I’m unaware of these “feelings” you keep bringing up. My feelings between the hours of 2AM and 5AM are completely unfamiliar to daytime me. Stop trying to make me feel better, I am very stable now!!!!!!!
Also I deleted every text I sent right before falling back asleep to a weird ASMR video, so all the evidence is off of my phone and therefore it basically didn’t happen in my mind. Legally, you have to respect this. I do not make the rules. Let’s talk about this next time I’m awake at 2AM.