Wednesday, August 17, 2011

242- Are you okay?

This morning I woke up, blinking blearily around the disordered room. There's no alarm clock - so I'm used to using my phone to check the passage of time. But I had left it in the living room the night before and the only clue I had was the bright light blinking through the branches outside the closed blinds.

I always take a second when I wake up and just watch the light. The bed underneath me is soft and warm, familiar and full of memories. I think it may be my favorite place in the world to fall asleep. It's beaten out the closets I used to read in, the beach, and the couch where I could literally fall asleep just by closing my eyes. It's the bed I lost my virginity on and the one I curled up in crying and confused about what I was going to do with my life. It's the bed I came back to and fell into with my arms wrapped around him, barely breathing because I couldn't believe it was happening.

So, I always fall asleep knowing I'm going to wake up with the light reminding me to get up, get going. But this morning, a dull ache pounded behind my eyes with every ray. I rolled over to the now cool side of the bed, and hung my arm off the side, contemplating getting up and finding out what time it was. I lifted my head, cocking it to the light which as if aware of my indecision, got brighter.

Great.

 I swung my bare legs out of the cocoon of warmth that was the comforter, and onto the carpet. Course, the empty bottles of water that cover the floor aren't what you want to hear crack as you're trying to wake up. Wincing, I kicked it away. Beside the noise, it was enough of a reminder.

I've been told I wake up like a cat. Back in the days of nap time, I was legendary for being able to sleep through anything and when I did wake up- it was understood it was only because I wanted to. I would stretch my hands over my head, arch my back, and push my legs out in a straight line before collapsing back in on myself. I still do all these things- except this morning, I was more interested in the pain in my head than the cricks in my neck.

I didn't sleep well last night, you see. It wasn't like the bad nights, where I stare up at the ceiling- analyzing and rehasing and trying to figure it all out. No, last night was more about cold toes.

As I stumble into the living room, bending down to scoop up the abandoned phone. My head pulses in time with my heartbeat, I can't help but plop down on the couch, letting the phone fall out of my hand and onto the cushion beside me. It's around 11 a.m. and I usually would get a bowl of cereal. But I don't feel like doing anything.

I take in the room, the puzzle on the floor and the TV staring at me with blank screen, dark eyes. The computer is buzzing next to me, heat emanating from it like a space heater. I'm careful not to disturb it, I don't want the screen to glow to life. I don't want to touch anything. The puzzle pieces scattered around the floor, the dirty dishes on the end table, and the blanket that is half twisted on the couch and the floor...all of it. I just don't want to touch it.

I take in the porch with dull eyes. I have nothing planned for today. But I don't want to stay here. The couch is a safe spot. It used to grace my small space, it's a familiar haven. But everything else is not mine. It's become alien to me as quickly as it took to pick up a lighter form a dashboard.

And I pull my legs underneath me and head back to bed. I'll dream more of the same dream, I can feel it stirring in my mind, pulling back the cast and set as I pull the comforter over my head, turning my head from the light. The bed smells like him, and I wrap myself in that one comfort even as I remember how I felt.

Like I wasn't wanted.

Maybe I'm not.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

243- Happiness Is

I am jobless, spending money like water on furniture, groceries, and going out- and I have never been happier than these past couple of days.