“Tell me what you know isn’t going to be” a voice whispered to my thoughts.
Though I didn’t really know what the voice meant.
I supposed everything that isn’t would be everything other than what is, and what has already happened. The cracked glass of my bathroom window. The words among antecedent friends that lead to the pane’s wounding. Pondering the world as I fall asleep and wondering if it’s worth waking up for. Picking up the phone and regretting answering the people who call. My phone ceasing to ring at all. Wondering which is worse and not knowing. Hoping another window won’t crack. Hoping nothing else will happen in need of questioning. Hoping but still grudging on in the same incorrigible ways. Waking but not feeling awake. Going through the motions of life without actually acting in them. Smiling without feeling. Lusting without love. Eating without tasting. Crying without being consoled. Dreaming but not achieving. Living without life. A bathtub full of tepid water. A bottle of sleeping pills stoically awaiting me on a nearby countertop.
If what weren’t what I knew isn’t, than what I know is, wouldn’t be. The glass on my window would be smooth and sparkling. I would fall asleep wishing I could stay awake longer. Call the people I want to talk to rather than the ones I would dread call me back. Trust in the fact that my house had been built sturdily, yet take rapture in everything beyond it. Finding and acting on ways to fix the flaws around me. Constantly reassessing my ways in order to get done what I desire. Acting in my actions. Savoring every morsel that goes into my mouth. Feeling my smile stretch across my entire face. Living my life. A life other than mine.
“Me” I answered the voice. “I won’t be.”
I grabbed for the bottle of sleeping pills on the counter and managed to force a few of them down my throat. Stumbling, my feet forced themselves across the dirt-stained linoleum towards the tub I’d drawn for myself.
“But could you be?” the voice responded.
Though my senses were sure the voice has had gotten louder, I could only vaguely comprehend it. In my pursuit of the tub my eyes gazed at the window fixated above it. Though I’d known there were ruptures, in my haze the pane was smooth and I could only see light, sparkling in the glassiness of my eyes. The light seemed to be beckoning me towards something (or someone) greater. I lusted after it, heading towards where it danced along the glittering surface of the water contained in the tub. Instead of reaching it, my mind began acting fully in my actions. In shock, my feet fell against one another. Within a moment, my entire body hit the ground; languishing in the cool solidity of the tiles. Though something in my subconscious warned I should feel pain, the only sensation I felt was the drooping of my eyelids, lulling me out of the world of questioning, and into one of sleep: an involuntary escape from the omnipresent reality. A place where you aren’t expected to ponder, pick up a phone, smile, lust, cry, or even hope. A place where you are only dreamt and figured out what can be and what can happen when you wake up.
A smile somehow crept across my face as I drifted from what I knew was in reality. Its radiance spread across my face as the feelings soaked into my aching soul. Though I was asleep, I felt more awake than I remembered having ever been. I willed myself to dream of staying awake awhile longer. My mind assessed ways to will it to be. Achieve what I desired. For in this induced state of suspension, I came to realize my ignorance. What I knew to (and what not) to be wasn’t necessarily what was, what is, or what can be.
For I can be, will be, and am.