I felt it. A pull. A big decision. I felt it. I wanted to do it. I wanted to make the decision. To pull the trigger. So to speak. I wanted to, but I chose to do the right thing instead. Figure it out. Let it ride. Do my time. Understand more from two different angles. Just grieve and lay low. It became a motto. I became a martyr for my own demise. A sad fragment of potential that I let slip through my hands. To do... the right thing. Is it the right thing when I realize how it was my opportunity? How it was the thing I knew I should do? It was. And I just... let it go. I just... let it evaporate.
He turned his head to me. His curls in the light looked almost red. Golden brown. Long hair like a lion. I looked into his eyes and he smiled. I held him. I stood there and I knew what I had done. I had followed him. I had sought him out of this mess. This... Where are we? I evaluate. It's a college? Or something? There's carpet. Halls and there's stands. Are we at a music venue? A concert hall? A giant apartment complex? Either way. I have just told my children to order their food in line and I walked away, briefly. I wanted to comfort you. I held you until you felt better. I wanted to do more than just feel your scalp between my fingertips. I wanted to kiss your forehead. To tell you it would be alright. Instead, you held my wrist. You looked into my eyes. You looked so sad. So lost. My hand pulled away and you let me go. I said goodbye and found my kids. They had been taken care of. But only because they took care of themselves and I realized that just because they could be capable of it, doesn't mean I should initiate it and does that make me an absent parent? My son ordered something different and I realized how much he had grown and I wasn't paying attention.
It felt like it came up again. There was that thing I mentioned. The feeling that I should just... try. To take a leap. Go for it. Just... start over. Be free. I hesitated. I tried again. I.... missed my shot. Once again. I just... let it fizzle out.
It came for the third time. The feeling that I should move on. The feeling that I should have done something. That the universe had made moves around me waiting for me to make the choice. To move along with it. To make a big decision.
I did nothing. I did nothing at all.
I was asleep on the couch. Under my dark blue blanket. On my grey cover. The pillow under me. My right cheek pressed into the couch pillow. I was comfortable. Cozy. I was asleep and it was wonderful. I felt a tapping. Just a knocking on a door, so to speak. It was uncomfortable. I said so. I thought it. I said it, maybe. I couldn't tell. I was sleeping. I wasn't able to be loud about it. It kept knocking and I was confused. I said to stop. I said this isn't it. I said, stop messing with me. I don't like it! I had the feeling it was all wrong. None of this is right. I didn't fall asleep on the couch... did I? I know I was watching tv and I was drinking wine and I was playing games on my phone, which only made me more sleepy. But, didn't I go to bed? Didn't I already get off the couch? As I thought it, I was under the covers on my bed. The dark grey blanket over me. I was facing the empty side of the bed. Away from the window. The knocking was more desperate now. I was certain this wasn't real. I was angry. "This isn't real! Fuck off! I know this isn't real!" I looked around and heard nothing. I saw no one. I only felt the knocking. The insistence to get inside. "Is this the same asshole who was doing this last time? I won't let you! No! Fuck you!" I gasped awake. It was dark. I was facing the windows. I was in my bed. Alone. Panting. All of the covers off of me.
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