Day & Night: a short story

A slither of sunlight creeps in through the maroon-colored curtains and caresses her face.
She opens her eyes.
Awake. Aware. It is officially tomorrow, the day she kept praying would "just come" yesterday.
To her disdain, yesterday's problems remain.
How did they follow her to today?
Did they cling to her dreams, hide in her subconscious, or blend with the sun, ready to greet her upon daybreak?
She was at a loss...
She lay there. Reminding herself... I must be responsible for my own happiness. Don't give it away. I must watch over it. Be vigilant about it...

She smiled.

At this point, she felt perhaps she would be able to get through the day.
She hopped out of bed, showered, dressed...
For a moment, everything felt....fine.
Then she remembered... the dilemmas from yesterday remain unresolved today. Her eyes, though highlighted with eyeliner and mascara, remained a bit puffy from the the rivers they cried the night before.
She thought.... There's got to be more to life... 
&& with that notion, she attempted to begin her day.
Made herself some breakfast. Two-stepped in the kitchen to Jill Scott.
Fluffed out her big hair, threw on some shades, & headed out.
Riding along...she sang along to the likes of Maxwell, Vivian Green, & Desiree Jordan...
Music was her escape. In this moment, she felt so alive.

*ring ring ring*

She falls, sharply, from that beautiful moment, && plops, silently, back into reality.
She doesn't even bother to look to see who's calling; regardless, voicemail will do the talking for her.
She attempts to re-submerge herself into that temporary bliss... but is interrupted once more, this time by an intense vibrate...

She forces herself to look... a picture. A beautiful portrait of beautiful girl. She appeared to be poised... yet free. Too free. She just stared, for minutes on end, admiring how free she seemed to be....
She thought.... I must have been like this...right? How do I get back to this?  Is it possible? Or has my canvas been too tainted to start over with a new painting?...

Back to life. Back to reality.

She returns home. She sits... Alone. In her apartment.
&& she thinks.... About her life.
Her circumstances. Her future. She looks into the mirror. Turns away quickly...
She can't remember the last time she liked what she saw.
She sits... && wonders.... Why am I here? Why are any of us here? We are all just living to die...
Chaotic purposeless universe....
She questions why this this notion of purposelessness comforts her so....

She seeks escape... through music, through film. She cries, she laughs. She is frightened. Confused.
But most importantly, she is no longer present, here, in this moment. She is....free. At least temporarily.
She furthers her escape... indulging in recreational drug use.
She thinks... the farther away I can escape from my own reality, the better...
She slips....further & further into the unknown...
Drowning in purified thoughts & artificial joys that persuade her that life isn't so bad, after all...
With a smile on her face, she falls into a blissful rest.
At last, she is happy.


A slither of moonlight creeps in through the maroon-colored curtains, caressing her face...
She opens her eyes.
To her dismay, she is still here.
Still alive, still living in the hell she has come to know as her life.
She rolls over, begins to cry, & prays for peace...
Ashamed of her tears, she forces herself back to sleep...
At least there, in her dreams, even if temporarily... she knows....
She'll be free...

Growing Pains

That feeling... of being oddly aware that you're alive... human... breathing... living... changing...
that connections and chemical reactions are constantly taking place....
making us whole.... making us who we are..... making us..... tick.

It's an interesting feeling...
my thoughts often form and travel faster than my ability to make sense of them, articulate them...
Create art from them... communicate them.

Pain &&& Pleasure. the duality... the insatiability... can one exist without the other?

I live in pain.... pleasure is a product of that sensation....

Lonely's the only other company....for me... No family... few friends... Jaded lovers..

Facing reality... sometimes feels like too daunting of a feat.

Self-medicating has become the only escape.. the only means of survival
Idk how I do it from day to day sometimes.... living, I mean...

I'm a pretty messed up person... I act like I have it all together.. but in reality, I admire people like my clients... who don't have it all together, can admit that, and are able to work on it simultaneously while still trying to make the most of their lives.... Their spirit... their joy, to just be alive, it's overwhelming....

It makes me ashamed... of the pain that consumes me... && my inability to truly cope with it. I merely suppress it, to the best of my ability.. && just try to make it.. but I feel as if an obvious cloud lingers over me... follows me... like the pain is etched into my essence... that my being reaks of resentment, bitterness, loneliness...&& I hate that about myself... but it's so pervasive... often so overwhelming.... that even through my attempts to suppress my pain..it still manages to find a way to seep through my pores... permeate my skin... and interfere with my life.

Got damn... I'm a strong individual.... despite the pain I'm consumed with inside.. I still manage to make it from day to day... do well in school, do well at work, do well at my internship, maintain relationships.... like.... sometimes just getting out of bed in the morning feels impossible... how am I still alive?
....doing this play "For Colored Girls" has made me more aware of the range of trials sistahs deal with, as women...I'm just thankful that I'm strong... and that no matter what, I am always able to endure....