Thursday, December 17, 2009

The Weight of the World

As I wake from my dreams, reality rushes in like cold water flooding into a open void. My eyes focus on the dimly lit room around me. My lungs burn from inhaling dry, conditioned air all night. My head aches from dehydration brought on by too many whiskey and cokes the evening before. I want a hot cup of coffee. I want a cigarette. I want to curl back up under my blankets and wish the world away.

But there is too much to do and too little time to do it. I have no time for weakness today. I have no time for deep dark sleep or haunting dreams. I roll over and stretch, pulling my knees into my chest. Some pills will soothe the ache in my lower back, the ache that has come too soon in my life of thirty four years.

I force myself with all the mental powers I possess to roll out of bed and get on to my feet. I glance at the clock; 4:15AM. There is so much to do. All the tasks that I must complete this morning seem insurmountable. The thought of even the easiest chore makes my head spin. I have to take a shower, shave, find some work clothes, take the dog out.

I try to step forward. My feet refuse to move. "Back into the deep dark," they beg me. "Just another hour. Everything else can wait!", "No, no it can't. I have to move. I have to do. I have to live." "To Hell with the world," my back chimes in. "What do you owe the world?", "Everything," I say. "Nothing," comes his rebuttal. "I have carried the weight of life for too long! I am tired and sore and fed up with bending and moving and supporting you!" My back pauses as if reading my thoughts, as if his entire argument could be ripped asunder by my next words.

"Try and fail everyday," I said. "But to give up, that is the only true sin. We must press on if only for the sake of pressing on. So, let us embrace the world. We will carry what we can of the worlds woes and ride upon it's shoulder when the opportunity presents itself. A cup of coffee and a ibuprofen and things will look a lot brighter."

So now, here I am, blood and ink and tears and another post. The ache subsides, the chores seem more like rolling hills than looming mountain ranges. The coffee leaves a bitter sweet after taste in my mouth. I am awake and alive and ready for another day.

I hope this will be a good one.

-Nosmo

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