Read My Mind

Despite myself, my beliefs and my intentions, I am unable to get out of my daily funk.

I wear a frown to bed and snooze to the sound of alarm from the wonky speaker of my mobile. I climb up from the futon which has been my bed for the past months, refusing to sleep on my own bed so that I can feel more comfortably alienated. I believe the opposite of love isn't hate but apathy and strangely it is becoming a second nature. This apathy.

I splash the tepid water on my face to drain the weariness of that has begun to claim my shoulders as hosts. I peer cautiously, in quiet anticipation, at my reflection in the mirror. Everyday. I wished the day would go away.

So I drag my feet across the estate to my car pool with music plugged in. The short foot journey offering only sufficient time for two songs at most. My own 7 mins and 48 seconds. Or thereabouts. Until I get to his car.

Then the ride begins. With engaging dialogue to make myself appear normal. Ready. For the day. Different from the reflection I had seen earlier in the mirror.

I wear this mask and it doesn't come off until I wear another. And another until I get to be alone again. The masks keep changing but not until then the music keeps me company. It's easier to change than to explain.

My comely smile will disarm you. My nonchalance will put your guard down. My readings of all your minute gestures, your feeble attempts to hide your darting eyes, that lingering look which lasted just a little bit longer than normal, the dilation of your pupil - never shared; as I make assessments day after day, evaluating and re-evaluating.

I can fake an interest and you can't tell. I know when to have the appropriate nods, the occasional laugh and throwback of my head. I mimic your facial expression to gain your trust. I don't mean harm but I don't want any of you to feel slighted.

And when night falls, I don't hurry to sleep. It comes in to claim me. Like I don't really belong to my conscious state.

Then when I sleep, I secretly wish that I had slept earlier. And when I hear the first note from my mobile and stir from sleep, the frown comes back on.