As the sun creeps slowly below the horizon I sit at my desk, earphones in, thinking myself haunted. I see faces at the window that aren’t there. Voices from the past scream into my ear, giving impressions of beauty and sorrow from a time long gone. I close my eyes.
One of the songs on the playlist pulls at me; I put it on repeat. Slowly I listen with care, feeling the rhythm of the dead musician’s pain, the lyrics made even more tragic by the circumstances of his life and death. It makes me think of something… something I can’t quite get at, a feeling I can’t name. I wonder what I’m doing, listening to this song in the silence.
After four or five times around I realize that the night has settled, and it’s about time for me to go to sleep. I turn the music off. As I stand up I glance over at my bed, at the blanket and the sheets, and I wonder with a sudden heaviness: what if I just never woke up?
I think about what would happen. Who would find me, what they would do, who they would call. The suffering it might create. But even then, it would be easy, right? Just close your eyes and drift into nothingness, and it’ll be alright.
Yes. It would be easy – but only for me.
People die in their sleep all the time. Some want to die, others don’t. Some actively seek it out, others have no idea what’s coming to them. And then there are some people who just have a strange, ambiguous feeling, as if their life is rushing very quickly towards some undefinable conclusion – and all they can do is close their eyes and go along with it, because in the end that’s all any of us can ever do.
Who am I?
I close my eyes, stop thinking, and just go to bed.