My Life, part 1

A beam of light shines through the hole in the blanket that I use for a curtain. It is like the blade of a sword as it cuts through my throbbing head. I know I should have been up hours ago. My window is on the western side of the building and the sun only shines through when it is past the high mark of noon and begins sliding down the sky into night. I do not have to work today. I am off, free to do as I please. Yet, all I seem to do these days is lay in bed and dream of ancient times. My world is full of the hustle and bustle of modern living and modern technology. I feel out of place and insecure. I dream of horses and dragons, swords and daggers. In my dreams, I see myself in quiet a different place, with quite a different life.

I reach up and pull the blanket out of the way. The blade of light erupts into a ball of fire as it engulfs my room and blinds me for a time. Blinking the pain and tears away, I am finally able to make out the shapes of the world outside my window. I see people going about their business, like sheep being led to the slaughter. Putting them out of my mind, I watch as a bird flies down out of the heavens and comes to rest on a branch beyond the glass barrier of my life. It is beautiful. Not in the sense of outward beauty. It is a female robin. She has the typical proud brown chest and slate gray feathers that make up its wings. It’s eyes are yellow like the sun as it stares back at me through the window, tilting it’s little head as if it is contemplating me as I do it. I wonder, what does it see when it looks at me? How does it view the world around it?
It gives me one last look as it leaps into the air and takes flight up over the top of the neighboring building. It is quiet outside. A typical Sunday morning, the sky is blue like a blanket of velour as it wraps me in its warm embrace. The beauty of the natural world is in sharp contrast to the scar that is all around me in my human world. The sounds of the wind and birds chirping are interrupted by the whining sound of a car starting. It is my neighbor from upstairs, the piece and tranquility is abruptly shattered.

I roll over and pull myself out of bed. My legs are weak from the hours of slumber. My reflection in the mirror stares back at me. My face is in need of a shave, as is my head. I stare into my own eyes as they stare into mine. The dark brown depths of my soul scream in silence to be released from the captivity of my mind. I see myself for who I am. Every minute, every second of my life has shaped me into what I see before me. I am torn and tormented by freedom I feel in my heart and the prison I see as my life.