Creative Writing - Like A Wave

Creative Writing - Like A Wave



Like a wave it swept over me. The general discontent I feel after my “work day/evening/night” finally ends is nothing new, but today felt as if the existential dread I was feeling had levelled up. My routine is pretty straightforward.


1. Sign off
2. Close my laptop
3. Play on my phone until it’s time to go to sleep


Today. Today, was different. I sat there, uncomfortable from the poor posture and lack of temperature control. Sweaty shirt stuck to my back. I slouch back into my chair staring blankly at a screen until it dims, turns black, and only my defeated reflection is left to look back at me. After a brief eternity of staring into the void I stand up and begin what I’ve affectionately begun to call “decompression”. I step over bundles of clothes strewn out across the floor as I make my way out of my bedroom / home office combination. “At least the clothes are clean,” I think to myself, knowing it’s just an attempt at normalizing less-than ideal organization and cleanliness. These small spurts of delusion continue on my journey to the bathroom, and culminate in the grand finale of acknowledging my weight-gain. I look in the bathroom mirror, perceiving a past version of self. Slim, young, and maybe not happy, but definitely not dreading most waking moments.


Looking away from the mirror and down at a round entity that used to be “almost-abs”, like a sweeps over me. Feelings of existential dread upgraded to self-loathing, now that there is a physical manifestation of my lack of self-care. “I can work this off,” I murmur as I exit the bathroom and make my way to the kitchen for a snack.


“How bad could it be,” I reason as yet another disappointed reflection stares back at me, this time coming from an illuminated microwave containing my dinner for that evening. With enough resilience and lack of self-preservation, the warm muck of a TV dinner actually isn’t too bad. If anything it’s consistent, and there’s value in predictability -- well at least that’s what I want to believe. The beeps emanating from the microwave grate against the calm silence of an empty apartment, echoes bouncing off of incomplete pieces of furniture once part of a vision that was never realized. At any point, I could stop the beeping. Instead I stand with my hand mere inches away from the microwave, allowing it to continue it’s screams of condescension.


The rest of the night is a blur of glancing up from a phone screen, bearing witness to disappointing circumstances, and questionable choices of nutrition. Time is infinite in this state, with only the growing fog of exhaustion acting as a marker for how much has passed. After hours/days/weeks of bouncing from couch to loveseat and back, I begin the journey back to my bedroom. Allowing the wave of tiredness to sweep over me and carry me into the next round of hours/days/weeks of the same existence. This night though, there was a surprise that came in the form of a small crack beginning to form in the top right of my phone screen. Completely unnoticeable when the device was powered off. Which meant it was really only ever noticeable all of the time. The day ends without any other surprises, and one more day without the sun passes by.






*I have the last line, it’s just a matter of having a narrative to get there.

And like a wave. It sweeps over me. Warmth. Air. Actual Sunlight


Written By: Jay 

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