My days are normal till the clock strikes 9. As soon as the weird wall clock in my house announces that it is 9 o’clock, a tiny bit of dissatisfaction takes birth in my mind and travels around me. It collects all the positivity from my veins and plants dread in my gut while flushing the positivity out through my intestines.
The clock shows 9 pm and my day has ended. It is time for me to go to sleep.
Sleep used to be my favored escape from all of my worries and fears. I used to enjoy the dreams and nighmares like a movie with me being a central character. But slowly, this escape was the only happiness I felt during the whole day. I started loving my dreams more than my real life. And that’s how my fear of sleeping was born.
Dreams are no longer an escape for me, intead, they remind me of everything that I consider wrong in my life. They sum up all the mistakes I made in past till date and then web a big bubble of insecurity that I have to drink throughout the night.
Now I am afraid to go to sleep, to dream, thinking that I will have to wake up eventually to a totally opposite life. Somehow, my childish mind thinks that if I do not sleep, the night will never end and the new day will never dawn.
But still, have to sleep through the night. And a new day always comes, except it doesn’t bring any new beginnings for me.
The clock shows 9 am and my day has begun. It is time for me to go to work.
I used to wake up with a smile. I still do, but earlier that smile lasted a little longer than a few hours. Now it fades away as soon as I open my eyes. Immediately, I rush into the morning mechanics without even considering what am I doing. To get you a perspective, my weekend mornings are the same as my weekday mornings…
I get ready, have my breakfast and watch a stand-up or stream a sitcom; looking happy and fresh till the clock makes yet another 9 o’clock announcement. And a similar chill spreads across my body as it did in the night.
I try getting up from my position and walk towards the cabinet to grab my car keys. I stretch my hands but it takes me forever to reach them as if they are in a black hole and the more I make a move towards it the farther the space between us stretches. Then I walk towards the door, which seemingly walks away from me. I feel like being on drugs, except for the secretion of ecstatic hormones. It is as if my unwillingness to go out in the world to my real life, to my work is so heavy that it weighs down the space time and stretches each second to the extent of an hour. I feel like if I keep an hour glass on my work desk, then the sand will move upwards for half of the day.
Travel was another escape for me from my life. I felt rejuvenated, revived, reborn when I used to take occasional holiday trips. It helped me shed some weight off my survival. It helped me gain confidence and endurance for a few more weeks to come. It was a refresh button for the desktop of my life.
But recently, I took a trip and the effect lasted just a few minutes after the trip ended. The 9 o’clock haunting was back that day the trip ended. And I was back looking out of the window to find a door out of my life.
My friends and family pushes me to seek positivity in my life. They guide me towards the light, towards happiness and towards contentment for what I have and gratification for what I do not. But I am lost in a world beyond ours, a world similar to ours, except for there’s no light to guide us through the darkness. I listen to their voices echoing around the empty darkness in my world, I try to reach out to where the voices are taking me.
I urge to do something different everyday. To learn new things and to do something exciting, helpful and innovative everyday. Obviously, I am not able to do that everyday. And that makes my day melancholic for me. I hate the monotonicity in my life. But that’s with everyone, isn’t it? I’m not the only one having a mechanical routine named as life. But how do I explain this to my mind?
Probably I will find my way out of this and reach the door that opens up all the light in my life…