You’d give anything to get your life back on track but every time you reach toward it, it moves further and further away from you. The morning is a black slog. Hunger is perhaps a dramatization but the pain, the pain of it is real. Fingers shaking over the keys. Hands ready near the coffee pot. The stillness in the dark kitchen wraps around your tired body as it cools. It isn’t the day that destroys you it’s the way the minutes tick by slow and steady but never stop.
It’s before the alarm or after. It’s the clock beating out the seconds even after the machine guts inside of it have been removed. It’s crickets slicing their high-pitched sounds through the screened-in walls. Some anonymous lady on the internet says she isn’t afraid of dying because she believes in eternal life. You read that and do not laugh. You wonder what it must be like to believe in something so absurd and wish that maybe you could, even just for fun. Even just for a split second, to feel invincible and so sure of yourself.
But then she’s just some random circle face on the internet. But then we are all just random people hovering about out there in the universe, online or off, and the differences are becoming so extreme they are becoming the same and the noise gets into your blood and begins to shut your feelings down. The coffee hits your stomach and your stomach isn’t sure how to respond when it’s not empty. And when the emptiness fills you anyway, you think of him. How he filled you up so full you almost believed in everything he fed you because how could anything that tasted so good be killing you so badly.
Sometimes lies aren’t as false as they seem but maybe it depends who’s telling them. If it’s you or not you who receives. Sometimes when you are lonely you make yourself so small you could be a decimal point or the end of a sentence. In your mind, you are kneeling and he is gazing down at you. Dawn peels the lid back over a melon colored sky as the birds soar overhead from tree top to tree top. And the crickets continue right along with their piercing of the deafening silence. As though darkness or light doesn’t matter. As it all continues to matter and not matter.