Waking (A Short Story)

I wake as darkness is bleeding through the sky, soaking into sponge like clouds burning holes through time. I, restless as I am, crouch up into a sitting position scratching my head as I reach towards the counter. I grab my watch sitting next to an empty bottle of Jameson and glance at the time. I’m not surprised to see that it’s two in the morning. My mind ticks away as time does creating an annoying echo that I want to stop, but efforts seem meaningless. Images that were stirred up during my brief slumber are frozen in my mind. Some faces just won’t go away. It’s all just more to think about. I walk over to my dresser, pick up a vape pen and take a few puffs as I connect my phone to the stereo. I decide to play a Pink Floyd album as I sit down and go over my thoughts. Many things trouble me; one of such things is my health. It seems to be depleting more each day. My back has become more susceptible to pain. I should have taken better care of myself. All the while the faces still linger in my head. I realize that I’m not the man I used to be. I take another puff from the vape pen before placing it on the counter. As many people as I’ve lost in my life I’m surprised I haven’t lost myself, or my mind for that matter. Sure I’m a little crazy. Some would say I’m an explosion waiting to happen. Maybe they’re right. The faces just hang there mocking me, telling me I should have seen it coming. I question how strong I will be and the importance of my existence. Should I still be here? Singing alongside the lyrics of David Gilmour.

-How I wish, how I wish you were here,

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl

Year after year, running over the same old ground

What have we found, the same old fears

Wish you were here-

Sometimes I wish she was here with me. Sometimes I wish I did things differently. Sometimes I wish that I could just forget everything. But wishes are far from reach and if they were any closer they wouldn’t be wishes anymore. They would just be undermined realities. That’s sad. I wipe the tears from my face. I realize that I’m still dreaming. I open my eyes and see that there’s light in my window. Time to wake up.

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON

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