Bonneville

The infamous Epic Sax Guy tune blaring out at full volume stirred her awake. Wondering why she had chosen such an obnoxious melody as her alarm tone, she fumbled beneath the covers for her phone. When she finally managed to shut the damn thing off, she groaned and sat up, rubbing her eyes. There, it had come again, another day. Same as yesterday. And the one before yesterday. And the one before that. All of her days were the same. Why she bothered with setting up an alarm was a total mystery, yet she did it anyway. 

Perhaps it was some sort of a game: maybe she was pretending that she was still a functioning member of the society. Somewhat functioning at least. The same society that, with all its rules and structure, had no interest in what she’d lost. There was no room for error, no room for failure. Even if you’d failed, you still had to get up and live through another day. So, she did. Gathering whatever energy she could find within her body, she left the warmth of her bed and strolled into the lifeless corridors of her apartment.  Even though it was a dark and rainy morning, she didn’t bother with the lights. After all that had happened, she had to get used to seeing in the dark - both with her eyes and her mind. 

By the time she got to the kitchen and fixed herself some coffee, the rain had taken up again in earnest. The arrhythmic tapping of the rain on the windows made her wrists ache with the burden of the memories. As if the rope was still wrapped around them. She looked down; despite what the doctors had said, there were scars left behind. Quite inconspicuous to the unknowing eye, which was a bit of a relief, but she knew they were there. She still remembered how and why they got there. A permanent memento of that rainy evening and the weight pinning her down. She could still feel it whenever she tried to lie face down. Phantom weight syndrome, she thought to herself, but the flashbacks were still too vivid to laugh.

Her thoughts overflowed into spiral streams. They started from one point, flowed all around her mind and memories, and finally returned to their starting point. Following them was hardly worth it. As it was with many other things in her life, she chose to let them pass. That was how you survived. The clock ticked away as she sat there with her “Live Your Best Life” coffee mug in her hand, staring at a spot on the wall. Not anywhere in particular, just a random spot. Just waiting for the memories to fade back into dullness. 

Upstairs, her phone was ringing. It was probably her family or one of her friends, checking in. Was she okay? When was she going to come out of her apartment and get back to her life? Wasn’t it time yet? Shouldn’t she have recovered by now? All those voices asking the all-too-logical questions. She wasn’t mad at them, they were just doing their duty of acquaintance. Social intercourse. Logical reactions for sure, but sometimes even logic made no sense - not when she was drifting through the days like a leaf blowing in the wind. Aimless and unambitious. Heading towards the void.

She’d tried to talk. It wasn’t like she hadn’t made an effort. Every single time, she’d found herself choking on her own words. The people she’d talked to claimed to be saviors but all they had done was to nod and “hmmmm” along. After about those fifteen different so-called saviors, she’d given up. What was the point anyway? If she couldn’t differentiate between the nightmares and the reality, what good would it do to talk? Sinking into the haze of desolation felt like the right way to go; the more vague her existence became, the less it hurt. Perhaps at one point she’d be so far gone, far enough to find Lethe so that the memories would disappear and she could be reborn again. Weightless and without the scars. 

Noticing her mug was almost empty, she got up from her seat to rinse it. The last remnants of order in her life: making sure there were no dirty dishes left. This was her way of somewhat functioning as per the social demands. As she gave it a slapdash rinse, the light shifted and the colors around her gained saturation, shaking off their monochromatic indifference. Oh how she wished it were that easy to let go. A bit of light and a touch of dark, and all would be fine again. If only. She walked over to the window and peeked through. Sun had finally come out, after three days of rain, and it shone over the city like a promise of hope. A promise that no one could keep when she needed it the most. False promises, unkept promises, promises in vain. All that bullshit. Even the brightest sun wouldn’t change anything. 

She closed her curtains and went back to bed.

#Leprous