A Little Thing I Wrote
This is just a small, quick story I wrote based on a piece of music I listened to, and I thought I'd share it here. Enjoy!
There is a feeling of silent dread as my eyes creep unwillingly open. The thin white curtain blows inwards, and the sounds of the city fill my apartment room. I’ve learned never to look at the clock, it makes things worse. My lethargic body lifts up the covers and drags me out of bed, my brain still distant enough to dream, myself too tired to do it.
As I get up and progress through my room, I let the cool air engulf me as a sort of consolation. It speaks to me in a language I cannot understand, but feel comfortable around. The utter silence of my apartment is cut into by the peaceful lull of the vast ocean of civilization. Damnit, that should be enough. But it never is.
I stop moving briefly as I remember it all again; about her, about the things she took, about how it was all me. Some part of my brain tells me to cry but no tears come out. I want to stay and think for a little while, forever, but my body starts moving without me. Just let me sleep.
Before I know it, I’m out on the balcony, overlooking the sea of neon and constant noise like a king. Stretched voices and sounds echo in my head, and they are all my own. I begin to climb up the side of the enormous building. I am no longer thinking.
My hands move up one at a time, gripping the small, tight facades and facing the gentle light of the moon for directions. Don’t do this to yourself. You know it wasn’t you. God, how I wish those tears would come.
Faster, now, my hands get me up the side of the building. I try to turn my head, but something tells me not to. Not yet. I want to sleep, I want to stop this. But I stay awake, simply to keep from falling. Then again, if I fell, what would I care? My brain is beyond explanation now. I show no reaction as my hands reach the top of the apartment complex and my body pulls itself up to the top, revealing the destination.
The city opens up around me. My eyes open wide, taking in everything. I’ve never seen this much before; the lights turning on and off, the children fast asleep and ready for a new day of adventure, the cars driving to silent nowheres, the hum of the electrical grid, the mountains in the far off distance, the looming bridge, the dormant power of the moon, the vast array of infinite stars and possibilities, the late-night worker, knowing my place all too well. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. I can never convince myself, but the lights are so peaceful…
One single tear runs down my cheek, the memory of it all leaving me behind, escaping. I let out a laugh, something I haven’t done in months. It took this long to get to the top. I sit down, not afraid of what will happen next, closing my eyes and letting sleep take me in.
