The television has a sleep timer on it. It's this little doodad you can use to set a timer to tell the thing to shut itself off after a certain time has passed -- the idea being that lots of people like to fall asleep to background noise or whatever, but it's sort of a waste to leave the thing on all night long especially if you're sleeping.
I also believe that a lot of people are frightened of TV shows
invading their dreams, but that's a whole different story...
I'm sleeping on the couch now, for reasons which by now should probably be clear (although sometimes even I still wonder how all it's come to this). The television, the flickering, the noise, the horrible informercials and faded videotapes right now are my only defense against the silence of this room that's become my home, my shelter, my prison, my reminder.
Things are tense.
I am tense.
It's not that I'm not grateful to be here, not thankful for the understanding and goodness that it took to allow me to be even this close by, but in a way it's harder than I could have ever expected. It's like looking through a store window at something you want more than anything, but knowing you might never get the chance to have.
Last night the TV flickered in front of me. A close football game, a flurry of warnings about yet another storm that might color the skies, and an informercial selling acoustic guitars designed by none other than the infamous Esteban himself.
Strange how knowing the reasons why that made me smile are so much the same types of reasons why I'm sleeping where I am right now.
Is this what I've become?
Is this all I can look forward to anymore?
So many thoughts and worries. So much shame, anger, and confusion running through my mind. The music was playing, but all I could see was my shadow on the wall, reflected in the light from the screen.
Then the timer ran out, and all that was
left was me, sitting alone in the darkness.
I also believe that a lot of people are frightened of TV shows
invading their dreams, but that's a whole different story...
I'm sleeping on the couch now, for reasons which by now should probably be clear (although sometimes even I still wonder how all it's come to this). The television, the flickering, the noise, the horrible informercials and faded videotapes right now are my only defense against the silence of this room that's become my home, my shelter, my prison, my reminder.
Things are tense.
I am tense.
It's not that I'm not grateful to be here, not thankful for the understanding and goodness that it took to allow me to be even this close by, but in a way it's harder than I could have ever expected. It's like looking through a store window at something you want more than anything, but knowing you might never get the chance to have.
Last night the TV flickered in front of me. A close football game, a flurry of warnings about yet another storm that might color the skies, and an informercial selling acoustic guitars designed by none other than the infamous Esteban himself.
Strange how knowing the reasons why that made me smile are so much the same types of reasons why I'm sleeping where I am right now.
Is this what I've become?
Is this all I can look forward to anymore?
So many thoughts and worries. So much shame, anger, and confusion running through my mind. The music was playing, but all I could see was my shadow on the wall, reflected in the light from the screen.
Then the timer ran out, and all that was
left was me, sitting alone in the darkness.
[Listening to: Miles, "Round Midnight"]
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