isntepic Archive

Spiralling

I lie awake in my bed. Or it's more like I've woken up to another day. Great. Stare at the ceiling, four corners fit in my view. The room is small. But it fits. It's dark but it's warm. Unless you get too close to the window.

Turn on the lights, so it's bright enough to see where you're going.

Three plastic containers of half eaten food from a few days prior, accumulating. There's one on the floor too, from last week. I should throw it out before it starts to go rancid. There's three nectarines sitting by the window, uneaten, ripe. A little too ripe.

Dirty dishes in the toilet sink, in the shower, on top of the toilet bowl. It's impossible to get up to pee. Too troublesome to move everything away to do so. Then you have to do it again when you want to shower. Again when you want to brush your teeth. Too troublesome, maybe another day.

Cable wires everywhere, it's dangerous to walk anywhere without turning the lights on. A lone ball in the middle of the floor, once calling out to be stepped on, kicked to the side after fulfilling its duty. Seven empty bottles tower over the ball. Next to the bin, waiting for too long to join the recycle pile. Maybe one day. I'll get up another day.

Three plants. Flourishing as if to try to keep some sort of life in this dark room going. Trying to fill in the gaps, the loneliness, creating false stability. The dark might take them out too.

Two piles of unwashed laundry in the corner, blocking the mirror. In this state, the mirror does not have a use anymore. Everything it shows is ugly, but real. So real.

Turn the lights off, so it's too dark to see anything anymore.

I lie awake in my bed. It's dark.

(12 Feb 2023)