Easier Than This

January 15, 2009
By Brittney Davis, Nampa, ID

There are so many different ways to describe the way one feels when they are separated from the world; the separation not being physical, but emotional. You know, when you feel so detached from the world around you. You feel like what has gone on recently just can’t catch up with the whirlwind of feelings you have. You feel like your head is drowning in the emotions and thoughts that you have and yet as you try to swim to the surface of these thoughts your mind instead chooses to wander from the path you set before it. And when your mind chooses to wander from the forsaken path, it wanders into the known. It gives you the chance to roam to the thoughts and hopes of what you wish to happen. It gives you the chance to meander into your innermost thoughts and your deepest dreams. It also gives you the chance to plunge back into the past and your secrets. Slowly but surely the secrets, lies, and your past barge into your dreams overrunning them and changing them into your nightmares. The past secrets and lies push past all amazing thoughts, tampering with your dreams and hopes, turning them into the destruction you feared all along. You try to run from what your past holds, afraid that it will repeat itself again. You try to run from this evil that your mind has as it overruns every thought you have with every breath you take. But you can’t run forever.

And so as I walk alone inside my house from a long Friday night I expect the soft pitter patter of his feet following me inside, but when I listen all I hear is silence. It should be easier than this. As I straggle into my kitchen I expect to turn and see him looking up at me hoping to snag a bite of cheese or some other delicious food, but when I look all I see is the floor. It should be easier than this. As I enter my eerily quiet bedroom and shut the door I expect to join him on my bed so we can cuddle, talk, and cry the night away, but when I reach for him all I grab is air. It should be easier than this. And so when I scream and angry tears come crashing down my miserable face I wonder why this had to happen now when everything else was crashing over me at the same time. Sleep is a much needed peace. Yet when I crawl under the covers and try to sleep, I can’t help but notice that he’s not there. Even if I do fall asleep for a short amount of time, as soon as I awake in the middle of the night, groggy, I try to slide my feet under the warmth of him but all I feel is my blankets. And after a few more tears slide down my face I fall asleep again to find that peace. But when morning arrives it is no different. I don’t awake to see him sleeping beside me. I don’t get to get out of my bed and turn to see him stretching himself awake behind me. And when I have my breakfast and a single crumb falls to the floor, I can barely stop myself from calling his name. Every time I walk by the living room where I could almost always find him looking out the window or sleeping, I can’t find him because he’s not there and he will never be there again. It should be easier than this. And as soon as the dreary day ends, I find myself starting this process all over again. It must be easier than this, but, sadly, it’s not.

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