Why I Will Not Get Out of Bed

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I slowly wriggle my body to find a more comfortable position for myself, and my mind. I am surprised by the difficulty of moving, every fiber of my sheets has latched onto my bare skin, making sure I don’t try to escape to relive the moment one last time. My lips brush up against my pillow case as I mutter the word “please.” My body feels as though it has been set aflame, or I am lying down on the hot pavement on a summer’s day, yet I feel as though the one place I am supposed to be in is my bed. My bed is my guardian, my protector. The one who holds me close to make sure nothing will ever harm me. The one to tell me it’s okay even though he himself is unsure. The one to keep my heart beating. The one who will never leave me.

I curl my fingers around the edge of my blanket and little by little I pull it closer to me. I feel another wave approaching, and so my grip becomes tighter as the water descends on my body, smothering me until I am no longer able to breathe. I tear the sheet off of my face and roll my shoulders forward until I am sitting upright, unable to comprehend what I had tried to accomplish. I tried not to move.
The room was as dark as the world around me. The only light was provided by the blinking numbers trapped within the alarm clock. The time read 9:37 even though I was aware time had unquestionably passed since then. I lifted the leg I could no longer feel over the edge of the bed, followed by the other leg which I could not feel. I could hear whispers echoing off of the walls, and I was puzzled as to where the voices were coming from. My head sluggishly rotated left and right until I discovered my bed was begging me to join him once more. I responded with “Live in the moment,” and threw myself out from under the sheets and collapsed onto the floor. My hand shot up into the air as I dug my fingers into the blanket and yanked it off of the bed and wrapped myself within it. My lips slightly curled upward at the amusing thought of me as a caterpillar. I then began to crawl.
My unclipped fingernails etched lines onto the hardwood floor. When I reached the door, I wrapped my fingers around the knob and twisted it, opening myself up to the world for the first time since the moment. The moon cackled from above. I slid down a few steps and took a moment to regroup. The grip on my blanket became tighter. So tight that my fingernails cut into the skin fused to the bone of my left hand. I extended my right arm and dragged myself across my lawn until I reached the road. I refused to turn back, no matter how loud the screams of my bed became.
I placed myself in the center of the road, desperately trying to block out the screeches coming from my bed and the howling laughter of the moon. My blanket held me tighter and whispered “Nothing will ever harm you.” Nothing will ever harm me. In the distance I caught a glimpse of light which continued to grow until my eyes were shielded by my blanket. The tightness of my grip increased and I felt the blood from the wounds on my hand being absorbed by the blanket. I took in a deep breath and inhaled the scent of the woman who once slept next to me. The woman who I loved with all of my heart. The woman who was in the precise spot I was now in just a few days before. The woman whose life was stolen by a careless driver. I could hear the engine of an approaching car. I could hear the screams of my bed. I could hear the laughter of the moon. I could hear the waves approaching. And I could hear nothing, all at once.














And then, I was back in my bed.





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BreakMyEmotions said...
Oct. 11, 2011 at 2:57 pm

This is amazing...great work. :)

"And I could hear nothing, all at once." Brilliant.

 
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