I woke up in an extremely vulnerable state.
Rheum had cemented my eyes shut, my body
was as feeble as a new born baby and my mind
had been tormented repeatedly by the demon of
sleep paralysis. I lay dazed and confused on
my damp sheets, wondering if it was sweat or piss
that had soaked them. Suddenly, the sound of seagulls screeched
through my window. The notorious sound of these sea birds
floated my mind along the salty sea breeze of memory,
covered my feet in bright yellow sand and washed happiness over
my heart in an awesome wave. I had awoken by the sea. The place
where my childhood memories run free from the caged darkness
of adulthood and are untouched by the damaging dosage of life’s abuse.
I rubbed the cement from my eyes with a smile on my face.
But once I opened them and took a look around, reality
burned deep. I sat up and pulled open the curtains.
The seagulls were ravaging the remains of a sausage roll
that had fallen onto the chewing gum ridden pavement. I watched as
the morning commuters walked with their heads hung into the
munching crowd, disturbing them for a second before they
descended back down for their free breakfast. The comforting
feeling had now worn off and I walked back over to my bed
and smelt the sheets. A few moments later, my house mate
walked in without knocking and proceeded to tell me about
the girl he had nestled under his quilt upstairs. It seemed we both
had mornings to forget.