Nostalgic, Melancholic and Psychotic

July 2, 2008
By
I lay back in my bed as naked as a newborn, staring straight up at the ceiling wondering what happened to the times when I would look up and see stars shooting in every direction. The ceiling is full of nothing now. Nothing but white paint which is chipping in the corners and a dim 50 watt light bulb with a metal pull-string dangling from it. I feel somewhat like a vampire; a white, naked, not-even-famous vampire.

A cup of coffee is sitting on the window sill behind me, steaming up the pane so much it seems like I'm living in a lighthouse. On the night table to the left of me sits another cup of coffee, but it's cold and there seems to be some sort of house fly gathering going on in there. I look down the length of the bed and see my ugly purple toes attached to my ugly purple feet which stretch off the edge of the bed like side-by-side diving boards.

I take a final glance up at the ceiling and then shut my eyes and disappear into the infinite abyss of my own mind. I find myself riding a roller coaster of nostalgia, and then swinging off a Tarzan rope into a pool of melancholy. I wiggle through the waves like a snake slithering through desert sands as a clan of psychotic hermits emerge from the depths of the darkest caves, all snapping their claws in my face. I scurry to the surface only to find it has been sealed with a thick sheet of ice, and I suddenly begin to feel like an old love letter wasting away in a super glued envelope.

Pound. Pound. Pound. The ice is too thick to shatter, and nobody can hear my gurgling cries from underneath the reclusive rink. I begin to realize that it is impossible to drown in my own mind... so I decide to open my eyes again.

I look down the length of the bed and see my ugly purple toes attached to my ugly purple feet which stretch off the edge of the bed like side-by-side diving boards. I want to roll over onto what you used to call your side of the bed, but I'm afraid I might look down and see the floor has turned into a pool of melancholy and then not have courage to leave you.





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