"Sir, sir, keep ur eyes open."
The more I try, the heavier they grow. The growing darkness does nothing to help. I turn towards it, seeking reprieve.
◇◇
Light invades my vision, blinking slowly, I reach for my phone, which is nowhere to be found.
Pulling the covers closer, seeking the warmth of the honeydew scent.
The overpowering scent of sanitizer invades my senses instead.
I jump off the bed, wires pull my skin. Needle like stabbing shoots through my arms.
Wires. So many wires all on me!
I turn to the thud of shoes on tiles, and within seconds, a blur of doctors shouting instructions overcomes me.
My ears turn red, and I feel my blood whoosing its way to my head. All I want to do is scream. But my voice is long gone.
Shoved against the bed, I let the fight within me leave and become a hostage to the doctors instructions.
Watching the changing hues of the sun. From its bright yellow to orange and red slowes the beating of my thudding heart, giving me a sense of familiarity.
I continued gazing at numerous sunsets from the little window in my room. Waiting for my end to greet me.
I survived a war, pandemic, and even cancer. A yellow bus is what shall return me to my creator.
Pain blurred my days together. All I wish for is my spot.
The lullaby from my squeky armchair, with its light feather pillow, put me to sleep every night. My spot. A cozy one.
Years sweeped by, waiting, yearning for another moment with my child. All false hope soon lost. My chair, the one thing, keeping me a float. That chair would never leave me.
I watched the door every day as the pillows stabbed my back for one last visit from a child to their dying father.
No such luck.
Hope is a weird thing. It keeps u going when life pushes u into the deepest pits of despair. But kills you seeing how much false will to live it gives you.
Thoughts as such consume me as the moon rises many more times, mocking me.
The one thing I thought I had in life was a chair, yet even that mocks me as a bright light invades me, making it impossible to keep my eyes open, forcing me to give in. Turning towards the light, I let it consume me, wishing for my spot. My cozy spot.
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Essays
RandomI really want to get in a competition of creative writing so here I am. Here is a place where u are allowed to leave as much criticism as you please. Criticism is exactly what I need. Leave all your ideas and suggestions! I am here for it. Hopefu...
