Sunday, November 20, 2005

day 13

i couldn’t sleep last night. insomnia. it’s my worst enemy and last night it struck with full force. i tried sleeping on my stomach, but my mind couldn’t relax. a wool blanket. he must have been freezing. i turn to my side. war veteran. i push my arms under my pillow. disabled. i lay on my back. for food and medication. i fold my pillow. please help. i wrap my arms around a second pillow. those occasional puffs of breath in the chill air. i bundle up my blankets. disabled. i turn onto my stomach again. that hidden, sad, unseen face. i throw off my blankets. he must be so lonely. i wrap myself up in my sheets again. where is he now? i add another blanket. i should have helped. i look at the clock. it’s 3 a.m. and i haven’t slept a wink. i roll over and curl into a ball. food and medication. why can’t i fall asleep? i lie on my back again and flatten out the blankets evenly over my body. does he have family? how could he have gotten in this situation? what does he need medication for? how old is he? does he have much longer to live? is he suffering? is his life as his worth living? i can see his face in my mind. it’s pale grey mixed with bright pink – a lonely sadness, a few days without a shave, a swelling of blood to fight of cold and frostbite. it’s my face in forty years. if those forty years existed.

the increasing glow of light in the room reminds me that i am still awake and won’t be sleeping at all. it’s saturday morning now. i lay between my blankets for another couple hours. i know i won’t sleep, but i want to tell myself i tried. those thoughts and images continue to bounce around my mind.

it’s of no use. there is only one cure. i get out of bed and throw on my some clothes. jeans. t-shirt. sweater. wool socks. sketchers. heavy jacket. knit beanie. scarf. fleec-lined gloves. alexander hamilton. visa.

he’s not where he was yesterday. he’s not in the bus stop booth. he’s not in any adjoining street. not in the park. not in any alley. not on any benches. he’s nowhere to be found. with so little time left, i’m a failure yet again. i hope i will be able to sleep tonight.

3 comments:

  1. Your story is such a tear-jerker. You have really good writing skills though! I am impressed.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I agree. Your writing has just gone off the charts lately. The descriptiveness. . .the tension. . .the way you keep the reader's interest. Are you doing this for a class--or is it part of your own personal growth?

    ReplyDelete
  3. it's something i'm writing for one of my classes

    ReplyDelete

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