Oh, Lazy Day

The muffled sound of life beyond the closed door.

Scuttling of the paws of dogs passing by, just that bit closer than the sounds your mind has steadied itself against, occasionally making your heart jolt you into focus.

Inhale. Exhale.

You hadn't been annoyed by this, instead reminded that you were still alive. Your breathing steadies again. Steady, calm, blankness clouds your mind again as you stare with one eye focused on the wall, the other eye's blurred vision smushed into the side of your pillow. You're not comfortable, but you're more comfortable than you had been in any other position, and so you stay.

Sound beyond the door picks up again. Music. A family member singing along. You've heard this song before. Earlier today, actually. And a few days ago, and a few weeks ago, and at various indistinguishable intervals of your life. Boring a pathway of familiarity into your mind. It didn't bother you. You actually weren't sure how you felt about it. Actually, no; familiarity was good. It meant things had stopped challenging your already-exhausted mind. Your mind was too busy attempting to extract new information from abstract angles of this same source rather than create something new and problematic in a rather counterproductive way of keeping itself sane.

Inhale. Exhale.

You decide to stay in bed today.