Basic Functions: Disrupted

I wake and my covers are twisted and tangled.

I dream of odd things, forgotten people, real places.

I cannot fathom what my mind is trying to work out, what relentless riddles have nested there.

I almost feel someone breathing beside me, though my bed is empty and the other side is cold.

I flip and I flop. I turn the pillows over and over,

looking for cool, for warmth.

I cover up with the sheet, then the comforter, then both.

Then neither.

I look at the windows, both hoping to see and dreading the light.

I contemplate reading, writing, watching television, cleaning, running.

But I do none of those.

I untangle the covers. I remind myself that I am alone, that morning will come sooner or later.

I hug my pillow, I make myself breathe slowly, rhythmically,

and I will myself to try again.

Advertisement