Drafts of the Insomniac

D on’t let me forget how happy I was getting that brand new Xbox 360 in the year 2007. E ven my parents would play the new games with me and my brothers, it was so great. P ut me back in the day when Christmas was about eating candy all day in my pj’s. R emembering how I felt when I walked upstairs to see the two gerbils I got. E ventually I started to get sad and lose hope little by little over the years. S tarted to feel lonely and unloved on what should be the happiest day. S omewhere I lost the feeling of joy because of too much stress. E nd of my childhood was stripped by an invisible dark force. D on’t think there’s a word to describe this Christmas.

It’s been nearly three years since our class ended. Three years. This morning, I woke up next to my wife. For whatever reason, I had a dream last night about being back in our class. As the memory filled my thoughts, I found myself back in the auditorium, wearing nice clothes and walking on stage to receive a golden plate, a signed photo of Mr. Nelson, and my Noscar, which read “most likely to get married first”. As Michael handed it to me, I thought about my girlfriend at the time and knew that it wasn’t going to last. I knew there was no way I’d be getting married first, but I accepted the award and sat down. I woke up, laying in a bed in my in-laws basement, next to the woman I married 4 months ago. I was thinking about our class and honestly, I started to cry. I felt feelings that 12th grade Tanner felt. I closed my eyes and I could see myself sitting in the back of the classroom. I could vividly remember days I spent in Mr. Nelson’s class. I remember feeling alone looking around