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The rise of the solitude

I need to stop making my bed. I need to stop making bed so neat and organized. My bed can always look better. My bed will never look as good the next bed. And I will never be satisfied with my bed.

I spend my time fixating with its appearance. I spend my time obsessing about making it more comfortable. I dedicate a part of my life analyzing how I can improve it and planning what I want to do in it. My days go by as I Try to correct all the little wrinkles in the sheets, making sure they are sleek as they possibly can be. And fluffing all the pillows to the point that they almost lure you into taking a nap. I live under the pressure of knowing that everything has to be nice and respectable. I make this effort to impress others. I don’t like showing any faults. I want them to know that I only have one bed and I am making the most of it. I take pride in my bed. I make sure anyone who sees my bed is able to say “now that is a well made bed”.

And that’s when I see it. I feel it. It hits me like a brick wall that paralyses me from the waist down. I struggle to grasp the situation which seems to be sucking the air from my lungs as I tumble helplessly to the floor, unable to breathe. I lay there. I lay there staring into a blank space as my mind fights a battle it cannot win.


Darkness enters. Darkness spreads. It spreads through me like a virus attacks its host. The last remaining light disappears and I am left alone. I am alone in place where no one can reach me. I am alone in a place where I cannot run from. There is no way out. I cant escape. I cant escape this vast and lonely space as it takes me beyond the realms of my reality and own psychic comfort. Panic.

Its coming. I know its coming. I can feel it creeping up my spine. Slowly I can feel it taking control of my every nerve, my every muscle imposing its brute force so it cant be doubted or undermined. It creeps up until it finally consumes my brain. And then I start to fall. Fear.

My brain fights back. It makes stand. It will not go quietly into the night. It will not give up without a fight. I look up and I see my bed. I see my bed for what it is. I see what it has, what it lacks, what it can be and what it never has been. I stare at it. I stare until I can feel my eyes strain. I see my bed now. I see my bed and I that it is empty.

My bed is made. It looks comfortable. It feels comfortable and yet no matter which way I turn I am greeted with nothing more than a wall, for my bed may be neat but it is also empty. My bed is made but I am the only one in it.

I need to stop making my bed. When my bed is made you are never here to see it. I cant take it any more. I have not the strength you seem to possess. I cant stand being away from you and yet I am force to on a daily basis.

I want to believe what you say. I fall aimlessly head over heels when display your affection for me just as fall every time you leave. I don’t understand your reasons but I want to believe they are true, but I cant understand how could ever leave if you felt the way I do.

But just know that my weird mind wonders and my brave heart breaks, I have achieved some milestones but I do make mistakes. I have a lot of faults that are very easy to hate. I see your beauty to which I cannot compare. I look at you in awe and fail to see what I can give, I’m just a average skinny kid who knows that a life without you is one I do not wish to live. I ll love you to the moon, I ll love you to the sun, I ll love you to end just as I loved you when this first begun. So if you can see me for who I am, and who I will become take my hand forever we will be one.

Take my hand and fly away with me, so alone again we will never have to be. Every moment away from you is a moment that I dread, so please come find me. I ll be laying in my Unmade bed.



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