Wake Up, Sleepyhead


Before I go to sleep and right after I wake up I see the same corner of my room. A connecting point through my sleep. Sometimes I stare until I fall asleep, praying to wake up tomorrow. To be happy. To feel good. To be good. Staring a hole through the beige, northwest corner of my room and dreaming of better days to come or those recently had. Fears. Anger. Thoughts. Regrets. It all flows through the nest of anxiety I’m building while staring at the corner of my room. Alone in those minutes before I drift away.

When I wake up, I search out that corner through burning, tired eyes, to locate myself, to situate myself. To stop the drifting racing mind.

Drifting is easy. Sit and stare out of an office building window long enough and you know what I’m talking about. Stay in a bad relationship too long, and it just happens. Listen to the same music, read the same books, always talk about the same things, eat the same food, walk the same way, and you start to coast. Drift. Coast. It’s the same thing. The never ending dripping by of time like a hemorrhaging wound, seeping sad. Sleep walking through life.

Really, it’s that – the gradual losing of time – that bothers you. Wasting it. Letting it slide away with each day you coast. Discover that you are experiencing life but not living it. You stew and hate because that is your instinct. You also think, a lot. And identify what needs to change: you have to wake up, sleepyhead.

Then something wakes you up.

A new song. A new person. A new book. A new experience. A new way of seeing things. A mistake. Someone tares you apart, or tares you down. Embarrasses you, or humiliates you. You become painfully aware of your flaws, your faults, and your weaknesses. Someone has yelled at you:

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.



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