Waking Up

You wake up. You open your eyes to see a very familiar scene. As you turn your head to look for time, you grab the nearest electronic device beside you. You casually shine light on your face, your eyes blinded for a split second. As you pupils begin to normalize, you see the clock. A sudden rush overtakes your body, and you sigh. You release all barriers of your sleep and realize, you’re late.

You begin the process of standing up. You sit down, bowing your head as you try to remember your name. You push yourself from the edge of tour mattress and land your feet on the floor. You cringe as you realize you’ve stepped on splinter.

You frown, and look straight ahead. Your nausea from your sleep hasn’t completely gone. Nevertheless, you lift your sore foot one after the other, and begin to walk towards the door.

At your door, you feel the coldness of the knob. So this is what cold air does to a shiny metal object, eh? You’ve already learned that in grade school, so why do you feel surprised? You tell your brain to shrug it off and turn the knob.

So where to now, brown cow? Do you head on to the kitchen, or do you head on to take a bath?

You remember what time it is, again. Oh, right, you’re already late. No time for eating.

You drag your feet to mimic walking, but your body is still asleep. Your bathroom looks dark, and your brain’s fooling around again. You find the switch, and again, you’ve blinded yourself for a split second. You probably should stop doing that.

You take your second skin off of your body, and step in the shower. God, the water’s cold. But heck, you’ve been to places where the water’s colder, so bathe. You shampoo your hair, you lather up your skin, and you rinse. Lord knows what’s going on in the outside.

As you finish your bathing rituals, you’ve awaken but your eyes are still droopy. Maybe you’re still asleep, and this was all part of your dream?

You step out of the shower. Where you got that towel, you really can’t remember. It was just there so you took it.

You head back to that familiar place. Its familiarity reminds you of something, but you just can’t put your finger in it. That’s a funny phrase too, isn’t it? “Put your finger it in.” Oh, Brain, stop messing with my before-work rituals.

You grab some clothes from your closet. You assume they’re clean as they’re there. You wouldn’t put dirty clothes in your closet, would you? You would. But then again, your alarm goes off again reminding you that you’re still late.

You grab your electronic device, dismissing the alarm why screaming in your head, “To hell’s heart, I stabbeth thee!”. It didn’t really go off when it needed to, did it?

You fix yourself and try to forget the idea that your socks probably don’t match. You put on your shoes, and button up your pants. Your shoes look really dirty now too, so you might want to plan to clean it someday.

You get your everyday bag. You swing it around to somewhere in your body. You open it to check if you have everything – keys, ID’s, money.

You head onto the front door this time. You don’t even look if there’s something you can grab from the kitchen. Who knows if you’ve been robbed while you were sleeping? You dismiss the idea automatically and grab your house keys.

You see a blurry reflection on the living room table. You see something furry on top of your head. You touch the top of your head to realize, there’s still a towel.

You embarrass yourself and smile. How could you forget such a thing, and on your way out too? So you head on back to the bathroom to leave the wet towel there.

As you walk, you take the wet furry thing off your head. You grab a comb from somewhere you can’t remember again. Where were these things when you needed them most? You shrug, and leave the towel on the hamper.

You face the mirror. You start to comb your hair. It’s all robotic how you put the comb on top of your head, and try to have it flow to your hair tips.

You look at the mirror again. You look at yourself as you brush your hair. You try to put it in your usual look. You brush it back and put a line on top of your head. You try to fix your hair, and realize that it wouldn’t really matter. There are no events coming up for your schedule anyway.

You look at the mirror again. You stare at yourself to make sure no dry saliva is left on your mouth. Oh, look, you have a new pimple waving hello. This would be a great time to visit a dermatologist.

You look at yourself one last time to see yourself sigh. It’s another day at the office, and you’re late as you’ve always been.

You look deeper into your reflection. That sudden rush overtakes your body again. But this time, there are no barriers to let go. You see your mouth open as you feel a shock running through your head. Your brain is going haywire. Several thoughts run through your head, and you see sweat forming on your forehead. You try to look away, but your body doesn’t move.

“What?”

You shake your head as if trying to shake away all thoughts in your head.

You just woke up. You just took a bath, and got ready for work. You’re dressed. You’re ready. You’ve got your bag hanging from your shoulder. You were almost out despite the wet towel on your head.

You look at the mirror. You see a reflection of your face. You lean closer for a better view. You see familiar lines in your face, and you touch them. You wink, and your reflection winks.

You realize, this isn’t you. It isn’t your job that you’re late for. You were never late. You never stood up from that mattress. You never debated to eat or bathe. You were never in that shower. Those were never your clothes.

You never graduated from college last year. You never passed that interview. You never really met your parents. You never saw your friends for a drinking session. You never really had friends. You never really broke up with whoever.

You never existed.

Advertisements

About bealitao

I'm Bea Litao, a frustrated writer, an aspiring Graphic and Web Designer, and an all-around jack of all trades from the Philippines.

Posted on August 15, 2012, in Narratives. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: