Meet The Bed

January 14
My eyes are about to droop but they refuse to retire for the night entirely. How does one sleep, really, when thoughts hound from all directions? I look at my table and see all the books unread, half-read or left. I turn my eyes to my notebooks and pens and see how much of life I’ve missed to jot down or doodle or draw about. I rest on the couch and find someone I love lying there, wasting his time on cellphone games and animes. I walk to the kitchen and remember how much I’ve been neglecting my health and weight and learning cooking. I turn to my cabinet and see all the clothes that wouldn’t fit anymore. I search for my wallet and know I barely have enough. I stare at my mother’s eyes and they glint sadness. I look at our aquarium and watch one sad goldfish swim alone. I grab a rose from a nearby vase only to realize it is plastic. I glance up the clock and find it ticking incredibly fast. The whole day was spent on a job that bent my back and calloused my hands and strained my legs and despite all my hard work, provides  no security. I stand in front of the mirror and see me, wrinkled and without a grin. This is the person I have to live with. This is the person I have to live for. She has to make it. She has to continue believing in miracles and goodness and beauty. She has to keep her heart strong and her mind sound. She can’t be bogged down by all that are still in the process of becoming. She can’t give up, lose hope, and die away with a spirit that only she can set ablaze and free. She is what she wants to be. She has to know that no matter how dark and scary and slippery and painful life gets, she decides all that. It’s her perspective that puts her dreams  in motion or engrave them in stagnancy. So for now, I’m telling her, asking me, to sleep calmly in a bed full of broken dreams, unfulfilled plans, and dire disappointments. The bad won’t last; it was never meant to. Hang in there, self. Dream of better and happier tomorrows.

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