I can’t recall where this is or how I got here, but I know who I am.
Panic spreads through me like a blast of icy cold air. My limbs ache and I’m so very tired I don’t want to open my eyes, until I remember that I can’t. I am only ever me and I am here, where I already know I do not wish to be. I try to hold on, try to be someone and stay somewhere I am not, but I can’t. It smells unfamiliar and I consider the possibility that I’m in a hotel. It feels heavier than it used to, as though it is weighing me down. I sense the light behind my eyelids and my attention is drawn to the platinum band on my finger. For now, for just a second longer, I’m enjoying the self-medicated delusion that permits me to imagine that I could be anyone, I could be anywhere, I could be loved. A moment of intense pleasure or pain, before your senses reboot and inform you who and where and what you are. Those precious few semiconscious seconds before you open your eyes, when you catch yourself believing that your dreams might just be your reality. I’ve always delighted in the free fall between sleep and wakefulness.
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