another lonely night

Friday, Feb. 29, 2008 | 7:32 AM

i lay on my back, staring out into the darkness. i'm in my custom built bed, made exactly to my liking by my dad. it's like a loft bed, but not high enough to put my desk under it like some cool setups that i've seen at ikea. my ceiling is too low to accommodate such a thing. a blanket hanging from the ceiling blocks it off from the rest of the room, creating a sort of a cave for me to sleep in. it's my favorite place to be. it is my safe comfort zone.

but this night, my comfort zone feels like a prison. i lay there pondering the boundaries of my lonely cell, while my cat, binky, rests on me with blissful purring. she likes to lay on me. i'm not sure if it's for her comfort or mine, but i don't think it matters either way.

she is forced to move as i sit up move away the blanket of seclusion. i look out into my shadowy room, lit only by a glowing computer monitor. my clock tells me that it's five and a half hours into the day that comes only once every four years. it's a day that comes rarely, but a night that comes to me every day now. it's a lonely night. it's a half empty night. it's a night of introspection of a life that has likely been analyzed more than any other life that has been alive. my brain often has nothing else to do.

the six benadryls that i earlier took should be kicking in soon. but six won't do much. it's a small number to me now.

i climb out of my bed and sit myself in front of the glowing lcd screen. my fingers don't touch the keyboard and the mouse stays static. i just stare at the screen, knowing that nothing i could do on it would release me from the pain inside of me. i consider people, and their lack of time, and how much i can expect or ask of anyone. i wonder if i will get to talk to bryce again, if steve ever misses me, and if melissa knows how to save a life.

my thoughts are interrupted by the the sudden pain in my stomach, which tells me that the benadryl has kicked in. my breathing feels familiarly shallow. it doesn't scare me anymore.

i have a swing in my room. it's a big, thick rubber inflatable bubble, hanging in some kind of strong material, that hangs by ropes attached to metal hooks that are bolted to the ceiling. it's for kids, but i'm a kid at heart and i love swinging. i move from my chair to my swing, push off the ground with my foot, and let gravity and momentum rock me for a while.

i feel like i should be crying, but i can't quite make it to the point of eruption. i feel the antidepressant i've been taking numbing my emotions. this numbing welcomes a life lived in a monotonous rut of a dull discontentment. not quite sad enough to do something about the sadness, and nowhere near the realm of happy. i have been stuck in this rut for a while now.

i sit back at my computer, and this time my fingers move across my keyboard. before i know it, the seventh hour is already upon me. i must go to bed now.

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