The first night, I lay awake in my old room listening to my dad playing the guitar in the next room. The darkness englufed everything except for the slice of light from the door which lay across the blankets. I tried to empty my mind of everything except for those facts I just listed. I listened to the song. I tried to join the darkness as I lay perfectly still, as though I was trying to convince my body that stillness was equivalent to comfort. When my thoughts began to stray I started saying a little prayer of thanks for my family and my support - without it I would still be lying next to him wondering if temperature was really the reason he slept under a different sheet and never wanted to close the space between us. At least this bed was warm, and it had been set with love by my concerned mother. Despite my efforts, I fell asleep with a frown and a type of peace inside that is more comparable to death or emptiness than the image of flowers, hymns, or beaches.
The following day passed slowly. I kept checking the clock and spending minutes thinking of ways to entertain myself as though somehow the things I would usually do at that time of day were different when we were in the same house. I waited for the sun to finally set (it took its time that evening) and sadly, realized it had only been one day.
Even though I had plans, it seemed like all the space in between them I spent looking forward to the next one and and every hour was an eternity of waiting. I read a very depressing book for school which occupied my mind for awhile but I finished that book quicker than any book I have ever read before.
Today I kept thinking it was Wednesday only to become angry inside when I remembered it was only Tuesday.
Everything feels surreal like I am part of a movie and there's nothing I can do to change the ending and I don't know what is to come. I am on the edge of my seat wondering how my own life is it turn out. I don't like this feeling.
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