It is a Sunday. On Sundays, there is football and scrambling to finish the things that have to happen before the crush of Monday morning. It is a normally relaxing day though. The little laundry that has to be done is usually done long before the end of the evening and the day comes to a very comfortable and gradual end. Everyone heads off to the domains of isolation we all crave to some degree throughout the day and eventually sleep takes us all and the cycle begins all over again, except this time without the two weeks off that they have just had.
I usually head up earlier than everyone. My head is usually doing something awful that time of night because my body knows it is time for more medication and, like the addict I have ever been, I shovel the handful of pharmaceuticals into my mouth and swallow a quart of water and lay flat on my bed and stare at the weird crack in the ceiling that is somehow exactly ninety degrees with nothing over it to pus down on it. If you have ever been to my room you know exactly what I am talking about.
I don’t count sheep or do math problems in my head anymore to try and get to sleep. I just let my brain do the things it needs to do to wind down to the point where I can close the door quietly to my conscious mind and slip down the back stairs to the subconscious and get a few hours of rest before I hear the alarm and run back to reality and get everyone.
Sometimes I play the game where I rethink all the life decisions that I made and see where I would be if I hadn’t. Other times I try and pretend I died and see what everyone else would be like without me there to be an influence on them. Other times I win the lottery and spend as much as I can in my head before the farce of it all catches up with me and jolts me back to reality like a choke chain on an unsuspecting dog on a walk. Most of the time though, I think about all of you.
I think about the times we have had together, the times I hope we have together and the times I know I can never have, but think about anyway because no one ever said I was a smart and sane man.
I sit down in front of the keyboard like I am now, I pick a single song and play it over and over again in my head to help me love myself in my thoughts. Today it happens to be Mr. Brightside by The Killers. Most days it is something by Otep, Green day has been a pretty heavy favorite as of late as well.
I write the words. Sometimes they are pretty, sometimes they are my heart laid bare and no matter what they are I can feel the stress of things leaving my body if only for a few minutes as I write things and I can feel my lungs try and finally take that deep lungful of air that my true self never knew I needed until I took it.
That’s my process. That’s my day. My night. My Always.
© 2020, TheJameyBear. All rights reserved.