Wake Up Wake Up

March 25th, 2007

there was this one morning last year. i’d woken up in a strange city beside a strange man with whom i had no business waking up beside. lying there in between the white bedsheets, i was only all too aware of the chocolate brown curtains and the morning sunlight it was letting through; a vertical disk of dusty light cutting through the hotel room and the hotel bed like a sharp piece of paper. i realized then that i’d fallen asleep with my contact lenses on, and that i didnt even remember falling asleep.

the man - a peaceful, breathing knot of tension - was sleeping on my left. i hadnt looked at him since i woke up, but i knew he was there, and i was really just more comfortable staring at the ceiling, repeating oh-my-gods silently in my head in between a lot of cringing and a lot of lip-biting.

but then i had to look at him. i just had to .. and so i did. suddenly he stirred, and i remember thinking, oh no dont wake up NOW!. he didnt wake up, instead he enveloped me in his arms. i didnt know what to do. surely this is not right? surely this is not what i want. so what the hell was i doing there in his bed, wearing his tshirt and his boxers, with the full knowledge that all this intimacy was in the wrong place at the wrong time? i was scared, but i was too proud to admit it.

when he woke up, he took a photo of me while i was still in bed. i covered my face and growled, DONT take my picture in the morning! but he did anyway.

months and months later, i find myself waking up beside him again, but in a familiar city this time. my skin is swathed with white bedsheets once more, and again it is chocolate brown curtains that demonstrate leniency to the stubborn rays of morning sunlight.

the congruency of this setting transports me back to then. but it is a long, long transportation - i feel like i’m hurtling backwards miles and miles and miles into oblivion. that first morning feels like a distant memory in the recesses of my mind. details are fuzzy, i suddenly realize i dont remember a lot. but certain things are clear : i’m guilty as well. contrary to what i had previously imagined, i am not a ‘once upon a time’ author after all. the first alphabet of my first chapter is not that huge cursive block you find in the fairytale classics, but it is in fact 10 point Arial. i’m an idealist who’s really a realist. it took me so long to finally see this.

in the bathroom, my contact lenses are in their green-and-white case atop the counter. he’s sleeping on my right and our legs are tangled together comfortably. gingerly, i lace my fingers through his, and he awakes at this to kiss me on my cheek. then we fall asleep again, together.

when he wakes up, he takes a picture of me in bed. i pull a face and he laughs. what is to become of us from this day onward, i ask myself.

i am still scared, and i am still too proud to admit it.

but i know that i love him.

Entry Filed under: Martianisms, Musings

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