I wake in the morning, enjoying only seconds of peace before my heart is filled with dread. I lay in bed caught between my desire to begin the day and my fear of what the day will bring. Minutes pass as I work up the courage to rise, breathing deeply to calm my racing heart. Tempted by the book on my nightstand, I consider escaping for just a few minutes, immersing my mind in some fictional universe where the real world does not exist. Just a few minutes. Please. Just a few minutes and then I will face the day and whatever fresh hell it brings.
I rise, unrested from a dreamless sleep. The need for coffee drives me forward. I should eat something, I know. But I can’t. A mild nausea is haunting me. A nebulous fear. The phone rings and I freeze as the machine answers. My heart is racing, I forget to draw a breath. A beep and… nothing. A hang-up. Thank you, thank you god. It’s one of those irritating calls from solicitors, pollsters, computers that abort their mission when they connect with my machine. Once reviled, they are now my best friends. Their silence means no fresh hell.
There are places to go today, things that must be done. I don’t want to go. I want to stay here where I feel safe, where there is no constant sense of urgency, where I am briefly protected from life’s ugly realities. But am I, really? There is no safe place from their insurgence. They travel with me, in my mind, in my heart, a pressure on my chest that will not ease. My fear. My dread. Will I be strong enough? May as well go about the day. There may be brief normal moments out there waiting for me. Brief respites from the grip on my heart. I could turn off my cell, so no fresh hell can find me. But I won't
I dress. I skip the watch. I do not want to see the time passing. No baubles call to me to adorn an ear, a wrist. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Do I care enough to tame my hair? Do I look as weary as I feel? I look closer. My god. What fresh hell is this? A giant, red zit beams from the end of my nose.
Screw it. I head out the door.
