The Shelf

Its another one of those days where the sun is out and shining across the sky, but everywhere you walk a cloud covers the sun. I don't know why, but right now I feel like I'm ready to jump off a building in confidence and ready to fly; but still knowing I have no wings.

Last night, I attempted sleep. Attempted being the operative word. But no matter how long I slept, no matter how deep of a slumber I tried ... the slightest noise awoke me. And I would wake to a darkened room, in a comfortable bed, but completely alone. I'd stare at my shelf and the piles of nick nacks and small papers and match boxes and CD album covers that haven't moved in months. I'd stare at the clothes that have been folded and placed neatly on another shelf that haven't been moved for alot longer. I'd turn my head in an attempted to releive myself from this oddly state of flux I find myself in, only to add to it when I catch a glimpse of my brand new TV I had just gotten for christmas and realise it hasn't been turned on in weeks. Most things in my room, useless and garbage. Worthless, yet never thrown away.

I toss and turn, attempting to find that one position that will consume me whole and throw me in a deep slumber, but I can't find it. And as I give up, I stare at the Eiffel Tower model sitting on the second shelf from the top next to a beanie bear. I'm consumed by the candles that remain unlit surrounding them. But my head is empty. For once, no thought lingers for I'm an empty cave; not one stir. Not one echoe. I'm just there.

I close my eyes and invite sleep in. No one answers.