I Slide Down the Surface of Things

The door swings open and I shuffle into the room, shrug my backpack off along with an entire weeks burden of academia. Finding the nearest couch I crumple into it, landing in a twisted shape that I occupy for the next three hours. Dreams come like falling timbers; some wake me up, others pin me down and won’t let go…

Spokes of sunlight have wedged into the room as I wake, trying to rub the light from my face. Late afternoon shadows stretch and drape themselves across the room like a dark dusty coats. I’m emerging from a cocoon that won’t let go when someone whispers to slide down the surface of things. It’s like a Polanski film but I still can’t find the cameras and need to talk to the director about a re-write…

In the bathroom I stare blankly into the mirror, trying to discern some sense of familiarity. My face is a vast expanse of emptiness and I seem to be crying. I do some sit-ups, return some videotapes, watch Oprah and generally get it together again. I walk into the kitchen and begin lecturing the roommates about world hunger and my general sense of anxiety surrounding season three of One Tree Hill. I’m nearly five minutes into an explanation of why Lucas is misunderstood when I realize no one is in the entire house…

The room is enveloped in ice and everything tingles like crystal and slowly I begin to realize the moments of my life are splintering apart.