Bed

A short peice about deep thoughts and contemplation on life.

My world always feels black and white.”What a life”, I say in front of the mirror. I want for someone to say something in reply to what I say, no, a silent night Is all ill listen to. My own voice sounds more alive when I talk in the night. I can hear myself because I’m more focused, more aware, falling into sleep. The look I give myself in the mirror is a look of mear melancholy.Sleep… What is it? Just a time when my eyes are shut for a couple of hours? Or something where I watch a particular movie roll though my head. And what are those movies that we call dreams? Images of what I want, what I’ve seen? What I will see? Questions that don’t have a set answer.
That’s why sleep scares me. The ambiguity of it… The more I think about it, the more I will be caught in a loop of endless thought about it. So I break the chain. By making my brain dull with thoughts of the future and yesterday, never right now. I like to think what the hell happened to my life, I was a kid with so much potential. Now I’m stuck as a corporate weasel who takes s**t from his boss every day.
My feet shuffle though the carpet, I get closer to my bed which seems like my only escape from the boring hum drum world. I look at my magazine of WHO? Next to my bed. I see a picture of a beautiful beach. I see myself in the picture, my feet dig into the pearl white sand, while sky blue water bushes at my feet. The sun is glowing, warm and slowly setting. A woman’s voice calls my name and children’s laugher in the background. A smile cracks onto my face. But as the sun sets the air is cold, the woman’s calls are silent and laughter fades. My feet rub against the cruel carpet that reminds me of my reality. I notice how my nails are chewed, the pain of peeling finger skin seaps into my once clear mind.
I wish I could chase my dreams and wild imagination. But they are just dreams and they need time, not money, not people, just time. Having the time to chase your passions and dreams. Dreams feed off how much time you have. Most of the time a dream will come true with a “can do” attitude. But I’m old, my time is almost drained from me and I can’t make these wild aspirations a reality. Maybe just the right attitude will do? Maybe all I need to do is just not turn up to work and live like a nomad so time money and all these things aren’t worries in my life. What happened to the days when there were no bed tokeep, no shelters that you could keep and no food on your plate every night, just living.
I move closer and closer to my bed, my room is still dimly lit by my lamp. The yellowish tinge of the lamp warms the room slightly, but not enough. The chill nips at my skin as I crawl into bed. The bed is soft and brings a sort of relief from the aches and pains of day to day life. The bed springs a bit and the sheet is cool. I rest my head on my soft pillow and pull my big blue blanket over me. It’s more of a big fluffy quilt that’s my shield from the frost of the night. It takes a while for my body to become warm under the quilt but it’s an eventual progression.
Bed seems to be the best place I can think. Being alone is the best way a person to think. It’s always silent when people are in bed, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts. Deep thoughts. And that’s what I go through every night. I try not to. I try not to think about my regrets and my failures and what I want to do. Maybe it’s because im angery at myself. Maybe it’s because I want change. This whole cycle of me going to bed is a constant. I get up, eat, go to work, go home, eat, watch television or read then go to bed to repeat the process. But the worst thing is that I go though this and think this way. Through no one’s fault but my own…my world feels black and white...

Author's Note

Excuse spelling and grammar please, this is a first piece written and shared so constructive criticism is appriciated