Just Not Today

The angry thunder bolts, runs through the ground with its electricity and you can feel the tingling in your skin right down to the very bones that keep you steady in the storm. You close your eyes to hear the rumbling through the sky while imagining the dark clouds rippling in your ceiling. Just when you feel ready to try again, the thunder yells courageously, and you lie on the floor, telling yourself you’ll try again tomorrow when weather conditions permit.

The storm decided what your day was going to look like. Your head tells you that the storm is what is preventing you from living and you seem to have convinced yourself of this. You wake up the next day with every intention of living, doing what you told yourself you needed to do, but it is still storming. You crawl back in bed, almost too naturally, and close your eyes, telling yourself you’ll try again tomorrow when weather conditions permit. 

But what if the storm lasts for days, or weeks, or months. You get used to the routine of waking up to the storm, that it becomes routine to get back into bed and tell yourself that when circumstances change, you will do something. Anything. Everything. Just not today.

The storm starts to become all you know and you find comfort in it. You have a credible reason to stay in bed because there is no use in going outside. It is dangerous. It could hurt you. You imagine every possible scenario that could happen if you walked into the dark, cloudy, loud, ruthless storm. Staying in bed is comforting because you know it is safe and warm. You might not be living, but you are comfortable. And that is what matters to you at this moment. 

When the storm turns into a light drizzle and the clouds start to disappear and a spotlight of bright sun beams through your closed curtains, you get hopeful. But you’ve stayed in bed for so long that your legs forget how to move when you try to reach for the floor. So you tell yourself that a drizzle isn’t worth getting out of bed for. You’ll work on getting your legs to work tomorrow when the sky is worth going outside for. You tell yourself you’ll try again tomorrow when weather conditions permit.

Finally, you wake up and find it hard to open your eyes. The sun is shining brightly through your half-closed curtains. You scrunch your face as you turn away from the sunshine. Your eyes start to water because they aren’t used to looking at the sun and it hurts. You never thought your eyes would forget how to look at the light, so you close them again and wait for another storm. You tell yourself you’ll try again tomorrow when weather conditions permit.

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