i want to eat tiramisu & get punched in the face

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I’ve got a crush on a 21-year-old line cook with a tattoo for The National. When I thought he was ghosting me, I listened to the song whose title is inked on his arm. It made me sad. “I won’t fuck us over, I’m Mr. November.” I was thinking about him when I was in the ER for hours doing tests, trying to figure out why I’m in pain all the time. I wonder what it’s like to not be burdened by physical ailments constantly. If I drink enough I can finally feel normal and also euphoric, like when the boy and I ran through the streets of Manhattan pushing each other and smoking cigarettes and laughing. The more I think of the memory the sadder I get, because I can’t accept that moments end. That’s why I listen to some songs over and over; I’m not letting it finish, I’m making it continuous and eternal. I’m seeing him Friday and we’re going to a show. I’m going to drink White Claw on the train there and kiss him when I see him. I’m going to dance with him like I did at the bar the night I met him. I can only fall in love with strangers. Even though I have work the next day I’ll still stay up until seven in the morning with him. Last time I was at his I checked the time on my phone and said, “Ugh, why is it always five a.m. when I’m with you?” I want to freeze time, make it forever midnight, safe but thrilling. The days are so boring. I’m waiting to receive an email that will change my life. I’m starting to think it’ll never arrive. I have to stop listening to the same songs over and over because it ends up making me depressed. It makes me sick of the same thing, of the thing I once loved. I still love it, but I need a break. Every day is the same songs and the same amount of cigarettes (two). Lately when I’m sad I fantasize about eating enough tiramisu to die (can you overdose on tiramisu?) or I daydream about getting punched in the face (I guess I just want to feel something). Since I didn’t go out last weekend and therefore saved money, I’ve been ordering lots of books: Coeur de Lion by Ariana Reines (adored), Sex Goblin by Lauren Cook (not enjoying; feeling guilty about it), Venus in Furs by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch (a guy I was hooking up with said my book reminded him of it), The Possibility of an Island by Michel Houellebecq (I think it’s the only Houellebecq novel I haven’t read yet). This will fix me.