Bookmark #144

Sometimes, after a long day ended, I’d just lie down on the couch. Tired but trying not to fall asleep, staying awake intentionally.

The apartment, dimly lit with lamps on the lowest brightness possible, would be on that cosy-cold — a sweet spot of eighteen degrees on the air conditioner. Some chill, electronic, rhythm and blues track would play in the background. Its low beat reverberating throughout the silent flat in a silent building in a silent neighborhood on a silent night. A cup of freshly brewed tea would sit on a coaster on the table right near the couch, wafting its aroma towards me.

I’d have nothing but some sleep in my eyes. No dreams. No goals. Just some sleep and a lot of exhaustion. It was then that I let all that control go, and unclenched my body and mind, and let out a huge sigh. The sigh would almost always be followed by a smile. Not a full, cheerful smile but somewhere in between not smiling and smiling. It was the smile of contentment. It was the smile of enough — of I did enough, I was enough, I have enough.

Then, I stared at the ceiling and I kept staring for an hour or so. This was my moment. It was mine alone. No obligations, no things I had to do, no favours, no one who needed my help, and no chores. No one wanted me right now. No one asked for my assistance. It was in this moment that I didn’t even need myself. In this moment, I could just be. I could just exist. Weightless. Powerless.

So I did just that. I’d lie there, on the couch, breathing — in and out — slowly, until I dozed off.

// if you want to support this walk to nowhere, you can pitch in here