There is hope today, I tell myself as I lay paralyzed in bed. Every morning’s the same now, like a weight in my chest, right over my heart, pining me down. The only thing that numbs my mind enough is to listen to politics. Opening the YouTube app, I check my feed for the most outrageous title, the most boisterous voice, the most cutting pundit.
Soon, the meaningless dribble wafts through my room. I forget the past, and dragging myself out of bed, find my bathrobe. It’s not always politics, but I find this subject a reliable anesthetic. It is very dangerous to think in the morning, because you’re still too tired to be wary of certain paths, memories best left unrecalled.
Noise is the answer to the wandering mind. But, these unresolved thoughts are tricky things when left alone, and they breed. More noise, louder please. Drown out the pain. Anything but the terrible quiet where I can’t escape myself.
It can’t last, I know. Yet I always say, a little while longer. Just through this week, this month, this term. Then I’ll stop and think; then I will face these demons. I dread every day, every sunrise is poison to me. Would that I could sleep without waking, and let the past alone. But I wake like a dead man.
Tale Told 