I awake to the darkness with a startled breath lodged in my throat.  I do not know what has provoked me from my sleep, but I do know what I sensed.

            I sensed him here, standing over me.  Watching me in the blessed silence.  But alas, I sit, the noted sole occupant of the room.  No further investigation is required to confirm that.

            I am alone.

            It's strange…being left to yourself while constantly surrounded by people.  How can you classify yourself as lonely when you know no other definition?  My life has never changed; therefore my intellect expands to nothing else.  I know silence and screams, pain and sorrow.  There is no conflict when no further is expected.  Required.  Demanded.

            This is not the first time I have awakened to the darkness, nor will it be my last.  I am trapped here in my self-made prison of personal destruction, practically having laid out the foundation myself through acts of foolishness.

            Awake, I roll over, grasping a pillow to my chest.  Pain strikes me to think where I could be, where I want to be…where I should be.

            My God, could I really have been that naïve?

            I always suffer a horrendous period of indecision when it comes to any decision or offer that might present itself.  Even though what I recognize as the one opportunity of happiness in my life wasn't a clear proposal at the time, I must assume thorough thinking would have produced a more sensible answer.

            I lie here in the endless darkness, knowing the window for sleep grows distant with each passing second.  There is a designated interlude that shrinks after the moment of initial awakening.  Once closed, sleep is no longer an option.  I am destined to lie awake all night.  It is my hell, my punishment, my deserved deliverance.

            This does not bother me.  I have grown accustomed to inhibited awakenings.  The darkness greets me like an old reliable chum at the airport.  Yes, Mr. Darkness and I have become most acquainted over the past few weeks.  I tell him my problems and he, the ever-cooperative patron, abides with an understanding ear.

            It gets to a point where you no longer question the boundary between sorrow and schizophrenia.  I won't worry unless my silent friend answers my calls.  Even then, I can't say it will be a full surprise.

            With a sigh, I roll to my back, relinquishing my hold on the pillow.  For the millionth noted time, my mind asks the great ominous question.  The question that leaves me perhaps emptier than I already feel.

            How did I get here?

            I hate that question, for unlike the other numerous inquiries that plague me, I DO know the answer.  I am here because of my goddamned morality, because I hadn't the courage to accept what I now recognize as the opportunity of a lifetime.  I grew so accustomed to rejection that any other language was impossible to decipher.  I am here because of my spite, my hate, my words of vindictiveness and confusion.

            I'm here because I was too stupid to say something meaningful, something that would beg him never to stop.  Never for a thousand years.

            Who knew ethics would be my undoing?  Where was I when the dominant decisions of my life were being dictated?

            Sensibility corrupted me.  I was so set on doing what I knew was right.  What society had convinced me was the correct path.  Because of those damned morals, I lost everything. 

            Why didn't anyone tell me the world no longer gives a damn about ethics?  Have I really been out of the loop that long?

            As much as I would like to, I can't blame him.  He spent ten years trying to show me the light.  Oh, I see it now.  Too long ignored, and too late acknowledged.

            I close my eyes and send a cosmic message to the void.  Should my admittance be heard in this vast land of nothingness, should I be forgiven for the years of ignorance and neglect…what then?

            I hear my breath shiver as it escapes my trembling lips.  The scent of unshed tears hovers over my face.  Capturing myself before the waterworks can be released, I send my question, my one single statement, hoping against hope in accordance with Mr. Silence that somewhere I might be heard.

            I'm sorry.  Oh God, I'm so sorry.

            It takes that for the tears to escape.  I am helpless to stop it.  The sound of my muffled sobs rings into the dead silence.  Oh God, if I could…I would do anything to take back the heartless thing I said, the careless decision that cost me my very self-worth.  My chest constricts with pain at the air my tears relentlessly steal.

            Where are you?  When I need you the most, where are you?  Come back…please come back!

            Defeated at my lack of a response, I again roll to my side, clutching my pillow to my chest once more.  It doesn't matter.  He has his answer, and he's never coming back.

            I have no one to blame but myself.  This is why I cannot feel self-pity, or resent anyone.  It was my mistake.  I only realized too late.

            I'd give my all to rectify it, every bit of myself to make it right.

            Closing my eyes, my tears crust and dry.  Soon, I will find sleep.  Sleep that will carry me until six am, sleep that I will live on all through tomorrow as I face my shamble of a life.  To live each day without living.

           

            I sleep, surrounded in the blessed silence of the lambs, but subjected to a cry that cuts even deeper, something I cannot heal.  Something I cannot fix.  I recognize it for what it is, what it was and what it could be.  Could HAVE been.

            It is myself.

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