hi.
I would appreciate feedback on this. Please, oh please, read it and then just comment, even if it's to say you liked/hated it. Of course, in depth reviews are desired too.
I lean closer, my nose nearly pressing against the window. It's hard to tell-the window's tinted-but the sky...
I hadn't slept all night, I never slept anymore. I stayed up, walking silently around the apartment, my walking pattern bizarrely distorted so my footsteps made the least amount of noise against the wood floors. I liked the silence pressing around me, and rather than tear it open I would go out of my way not to make a sound. I wouldn't flush the toilet til late in the morning, washed my hands under a trickle of water with a sponge beneath so the droplets didn't ping as they hit the metal bottom of the sink. The refridgerator door made too much noise to open, and I honestly wasn't that hungry. The noise of preparing food and chewing made me lose my appetite. It used to make me laugh, the perfect quiet, the blinds slightly open to let in the streetlight. But the laughter was too loud, jarring. My breath as well, is too loud if I'm not careful. Timed tiny sips of water so I don't have to cover my mouth with my hand, getting out of breath from drinking too much too fast. Early in the night the buses disturbed me, every half hour trundling along, so loud. By four the only noise was the periodic thrum of the fridge.
Sometimes it gets too much. Two nights ago I was holding my hands against the window, looking at the sky through my fingers, and it seemed to grow and shrink around me. When I looked back into the room, the walls, the blank white walls, had grown and the furniture had shrunk and it was so empty, and I was so alone. The last time I tried to sleep, curled under the blankets, realising that the weight of the blankets wasn't enough anymore. I padded to the kitchen and squeezed between two cabinets, under the counter and watched the bridge of my nose in private astonishment as I felt myself begin to cry. Leaking water.
And now this. I can't tell if what I'm seeing is real or not, but it frightens me anyway. It probably should, not knowing whether you're hallucinating when you look out your own window. The normal light grey/blue of the Ungodly Hours of the Morning, still my favourite time of day despite the fact that I no longer leave the apartment to walk around in it, be awed by it. I'm always wide awake and clear for these moments, the early hours, marvelling. But over to the east the sky is black, absolutely black. Frantically I rummage through my head. Does this window truly face east? Isn't Mt Tabor over there somewhere? it is, it is, it has to be. It's a cloud. A giant black cloud, huge, obscuring the sun in the east, though the rest of the sky is the same perfect shade of just-before-dawn. I keep watching, unable to rationalise the blackness, hoping it's in my head, though I don't know what that would make me.
It doesn't seem to move, and I'm almost convinced it is Mt Tabor, moved several miles north, to my backyard. Yes, that'll be it. If I try, I almost think I can make out pine trees climbing the slopes. I take three silent steps back, still stretching a bit forward, but not as curious any more. A mountain has taken up residence somewhere a few streets to the east of my house. Possibly in the backyard of this apartment building. I can't be bothered to watch anymore, someone else will come and take care of it.
I lean closer, my nose nearly pressing against the window. It's hard to tell-the window's tinted-but the sky...
I hadn't slept all night, I never slept anymore. I stayed up, walking silently around the apartment, my walking pattern bizarrely distorted so my footsteps made the least amount of noise against the wood floors. I liked the silence pressing around me, and rather than tear it open I would go out of my way not to make a sound. I wouldn't flush the toilet til late in the morning, washed my hands under a trickle of water with a sponge beneath so the droplets didn't ping as they hit the metal bottom of the sink. The refridgerator door made too much noise to open, and I honestly wasn't that hungry. The noise of preparing food and chewing made me lose my appetite. It used to make me laugh, the perfect quiet, the blinds slightly open to let in the streetlight. But the laughter was too loud, jarring. My breath as well, is too loud if I'm not careful. Timed tiny sips of water so I don't have to cover my mouth with my hand, getting out of breath from drinking too much too fast. Early in the night the buses disturbed me, every half hour trundling along, so loud. By four the only noise was the periodic thrum of the fridge.
Sometimes it gets too much. Two nights ago I was holding my hands against the window, looking at the sky through my fingers, and it seemed to grow and shrink around me. When I looked back into the room, the walls, the blank white walls, had grown and the furniture had shrunk and it was so empty, and I was so alone. The last time I tried to sleep, curled under the blankets, realising that the weight of the blankets wasn't enough anymore. I padded to the kitchen and squeezed between two cabinets, under the counter and watched the bridge of my nose in private astonishment as I felt myself begin to cry. Leaking water.
And now this. I can't tell if what I'm seeing is real or not, but it frightens me anyway. It probably should, not knowing whether you're hallucinating when you look out your own window. The normal light grey/blue of the Ungodly Hours of the Morning, still my favourite time of day despite the fact that I no longer leave the apartment to walk around in it, be awed by it. I'm always wide awake and clear for these moments, the early hours, marvelling. But over to the east the sky is black, absolutely black. Frantically I rummage through my head. Does this window truly face east? Isn't Mt Tabor over there somewhere? it is, it is, it has to be. It's a cloud. A giant black cloud, huge, obscuring the sun in the east, though the rest of the sky is the same perfect shade of just-before-dawn. I keep watching, unable to rationalise the blackness, hoping it's in my head, though I don't know what that would make me.
It doesn't seem to move, and I'm almost convinced it is Mt Tabor, moved several miles north, to my backyard. Yes, that'll be it. If I try, I almost think I can make out pine trees climbing the slopes. I take three silent steps back, still stretching a bit forward, but not as curious any more. A mountain has taken up residence somewhere a few streets to the east of my house. Possibly in the backyard of this apartment building. I can't be bothered to watch anymore, someone else will come and take care of it.