My day ends at five in the afternoon. Somedays it feels like the world will skid off its axis or the horizon will melt like goo off a popsicle stick. But it never does. Maybe I end at five o'clock but the world just keeps turning, the light fades to darkness, but without the sun to vanquish my shadows they just overtake me. So after five, I have this overwhelming urge to shut myself up in a dark room and shut out the world. I pretend it stopped with me. But the next morning the sun rises and I regret all that I’ve done. Now I’m more behind than before and I wish I headed my mother’s shouts, or shrugged off the overwhelming sorrow. But the dark I once found horrifying has become a welcome cover, this blanket of night keeps me from seeing the mistakes, from acknowledging how much everything matters. In here, in my pitch black cocoon I can pretend to be a blooming butterfly, though we all know I'm a rock.
I followed the impulse up the stairs to stand in my bedroom, to fade into its familiarity. The same bed, the same tousled covers flung haphazardly the past morning. If we each owned a lifelong landscape, in this moment my bedroom would be mine. The same mess...the same solace. Sometimes being in my room feels like an escape. It feels like I could detach from the world and drift into the clouds on my worn rug island. I proceed to bury my face in the blankets, pick up a pillow and press it to my skin, plummet into a sweatshirt. My sanctuary. In here, even if it's temporary, I'm safe from everything else. Free from everyone else. I'm distracted from the inevitable. You're supposed to be looking for something... Ah! Thank you brain for the reminder. I'm here because I'm looking for something! Something I need... I feel my eyes snap into their searching regimen. Scan the room, glance left then right, identify the difference. Find what's out of place.....remove it...
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