I Wish I Had Some Milk

My apartment is clean, full of furniture, pictures on the wall and even a welcome mat outside the door. Yet, it feels empty. I sit alone, on my bed and think. Think how I wanted to be in bed over an hour and a half ago. I listen to music, and try and find a new anthem to fit my mood.

My room has nothing on the wall, 'cept for a lonely 3x5 picture frame with a concert ticket and guitar pick in it. My TV is one fit for a living room, but it looks directly at my bed. I stare back at it and mimic it's blank stare. It's been a long time since I've watched it.

Wake up is just a few hours away, but my body doesn't seem to notice. I had been exhausted when I had arrived home, but with a few weeks worth of chores left undone, I couldn't allow myself time for a nap, or worse to veg-out and do nothing.

I constantly try and improve myself. I've been failing miserably of late, but as a great man once said, you learn all the ways to successfully not succeed in order to find the way to succeed every once in awhile. Tonight I'm more of an emotional mess than I have been in a long time. I'm a few months out of a very depressed state where suicide was a real and present option. I come back from vacation, and some of those feelings linger in this barren room. I need a catalyst, a muse, and writing has sometimes been the one I've sought out.

So, here I am. A dark room, the only light from my computer and a slight one that creeps under the door. It's a small room, and the computer light is bright enough to encapsulate it. A glass of water sits to my side and a few months ago it would've been a beer. I watch as the ice cubes melt, and shift in it. Not sure if they dance to the music I listen too, or if they are doing a separate rehearsal. The Bose headphones I have trap me in my own world, and if I close my eyes I don't even remember I have them on, but feel as if the music is coming from my own subconscious. Listening to it, it talks to me, knows me better than I know myself.

It's always when you're at your extremes that music has such a way to speak to you. To lead you, to humble you, to capture you. I don't know the artist, but whoever they are, they wrote this song for me. I try and reason with my subconscious but it never responds when I want it too.

I'm feeling emotion I have never felt before, and wonder if I actually exist. Beta, technology speaks to me better than most people do, and I side with it for a moment, forgetting my actuality. It feels good to be lost in a place that doesn't exist rather than exist in a place where you are lost. The song skips to something my sister would listen to, and I can't quite figure out what she sees in it. It's so dull, and maybe too deep for me to truly understand.

I had barely remembered to eat after I had gotten so busy with cleaning. My power had been off for a week or so, thanks to my sometimes forgetful roommate, and a string of bad luck that seems to be trolling for me. I cleaned the fridge out and held my breath as I nearly lost it cleaning out what was once frozen shrimp out of the freezer. The loss of almost all of my frozen and refrigerated substance had me confused on what to make. Since I'm a growing boy, I opted for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, rather than spaghetti without meat sauce. I regretted my decision somewhat as I hap-hazardly realized with a few tough chews, that I had no milk. Milk has so much substance, helps to swallow the hardest, thickest, most gooey chews. Water just won't do.

That bad luck lingers and so do these feelings. I need perspective on what I feel, and wish I had some peyote. The room darkens and my eyes finally start to feel their weight. As soon as I scratch the surface on the idea that will allow me to figure out what I'm going through, it's gone. It's ran too fast through my head, and I can't catch but more than a glimpse. I shuffle the play list and hope it brings me some clarity. My eyes, more heavy, more weary, they beg me for rest. My body, aching from a long day; it pleads with me. Only my mind, still working, still thinking, chewing, keeps me awake. I wish I had some milk...