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a new way of looking at... writings >> james bittancourt >> untitled |
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I feel my life getting more and more repetitious with each passing day. I have trouble sleeping properly, and leave the lights on for comfort and security. Sometimes I sit at the desk, staring at words, bits flying across the screen, trying to understand what it means. What I mean to others. My toes are cold, I can feel; I begin shivering as I curl up in a blanket on the floor. I have trouble sleeping on the bed because it's too comfortable to fit this image of normality my life is shrouded within. This specific blanket has a grey outside and a white inside, much like a cloud. I wrap it around my arms and legs, bending over, holding myself in the fetal position. Turning on the television, I lean back and glaze. The thin fabric holding me in hardly keeps me warm, and I shift frequently to cover all of my body. I miss the times when this would satisfy me, when the blanket was too big, when I wasn't as cold. When I didn't know what I knew now. Leaning back into the dull pillow, I think to myself how simple times begin. You are born one day, very easily coming into the world, and with each passing day it grows more difficult to survive on your own. More responsibility comes your way. It was llike that for me too, except I held my thoughts inside, away from the world. I was a closeted person then, peeking through the clothes covering me inside. One by one, each fabric would touch my skin, gently, softly. I would eventually learn how to survive on sensing those clothes in the closet, hiding. Waiting. I toss and turn, staring out into the dark night. At this time of year, the sun wouldn't rise until 7. With a life like mine, though, time wasn't a factor in making my life effective. I worked and slept when I could, tried to enjoy the material things. I would spend so much time and money and effort looking for something to satisfy, never finding the treasure. Then one day off of instinct I turned to the one place I didn't think I would ever be able to find it. My bicycle tire was deflated while I had been shopping. I attempted to fix it but to no avail. Since I lived so close I began walking. The day was fleeting, I remember, because I could see the moon beginning to grow yellow in the sky. The dense foggy clouds gathered along the cityscape, shimmering against the purple ocean of atmosphere. There was a lack of traffic today, and overall activity along the road. Maybe it was a holiday, but I couldn't remember that. I pushed my metallic bike slowly, forcefully along the sidewalk. |