some days catch you motionless
Sometimes, in moments of poignant desperation, I can hardly control my reluctant contempt for [everything]. You have those moments, too. You sit at the edge of your bed, hands clasped in front of you, eyes blank, mind set to wandering mode - thinking back to cozy nights in winter cabins you've never experienced but can sure imagine. You perch there, foot tangled in blankets, body suspended in the motion of leaving even though you have nowhere to go. You think about getting up and going to watch the sun set out on the hill because you want to experience something beautiful, but decide you would rather not see the sky polluted by your shaking aloneness. You lie back on your bed, juggle your phone nonchalantly, and imagine yourself calling a friend, maybe your old best friend you really should talk to more often, but stop yourself when you realize you have nothing to offer except fake laughs and a distant voice. You let your phone drop to your side and your body relax, while, for a minute or so, the thought of bold wandering into foreign places and discovering the world bolsters your confidence until they reach permanence as thoughts only. Briefly you consider picking up that book you've been meaning to read, or doing homework even, but discard that notion with the rationalization that you just can't concentrate. All out of suggetsions for your unhappy, weary psyche, you decide your bed with a nice view of the microwave isn't so bad after all. The music on your laptop lulls you into quiet, tolerable discontentment as you wonder where all the shooting stars are, and why you always miss them. Apathy probably washes over your closed eyelids at about this time, and you try mightily to remember something meaningful - a passionate kiss or a glance of affection. They were with you before and they're not gone forever, but the descending grayness as the sun sets without you tries to convince you otherwise. Eventually, you let your thoughts dissipate as you slip into a state of vegetable-like breathing and accept the moment for what it is. It wouldn't be right if we all felt alive all the time, yet we never fail to pursue the ideal of euphoria. At least it's reassuring to know that all of humanity trembles at the thought of being alone, rages in fury at the knowledge that everyone is, and settles down finally to a state of patient waiting. Sooner or later, you will awake.