Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Rumors of Another Life

At about five minutes past six I wake up (for the most part). I have no idea what’s going on. My body is still sleeping, but my mind is giving it signals to keep moving. I’m doing everything on autopilot. I head to the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker. I hear a cry outside my backdoor. I vaguely remember that I have a cat waiting outside for her first meal of the day. I open the door and feed her. Next I warm the shower to temperature that I use each morning robotically testing the water until it meets my requirements. Once out, I look at myself in the mirror for the first time out of curiosity mostly because I know what I look like. Shit mostly, and I feel the same the same way.

Back in the kitchen I pour a cup of hot coffee and drink from it as I toast some resin bread. After taking a few bites I’m back into my bedroom making sure that I have all of my clothes in order. Does anything need ironing? My job requires that I look professional, wrinkles won’t do. Once that’s in order I go about the business of shaving. Never an easy task for a man who can’t see, but one required of man whose facial hair grows at a fast rate. I brush, floss, and rinse. Soon after I’m getting into my clothes in front of a floor to ceiling mirror.

By this time I’m halfway awake and can enjoy the rest of my coffee and toast. I get my briefcase together and take one last look at myself in the mirror. Looking back at me now is a different man. One much more confident than the one earlier in the bathroom. Now looking back at me is men I know only exist in people’s minds, other people’s minds.

What do I think about this life that I’ve now constructed in my head? I’m sure that it’s something I wish I were. I’m t-shirt and jeans kind of guy, but I wear a suit. I normally wouldn’t be up until 10 or 11, but I’m out the door at 7. What does this say about me? And why isn’t there anyone else going though this with me?

I can imagine all the things that I go through to make it to my job on time. To make the money for a comfortable life, but what am I ultimately looking for? Someone to share it with. And I see no one in the other room. My bed is empty. When I step out the door I’m a different man then when I stepped out of my bed, but I want someone in the bed with me to share my inner life. The life I don’t show to the outside world is a lonely life. I want someone who can help me get up, not helping me go through the motions, but giving me the motivation to do it on my own.

Who is this man? What does he look like? What does feel like? That’s the spot that’s missing in this dream. I look forward to when it will be filled.
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