I roll over and groan. My arm brushes against last weeks icee container. The sheets are soft beneath me. I rub my right foot in a circular motion as the feeling of pure softness takes over my body. I generally feel tense, distraut, miserable. I briefly open my eyes, Im lying amongst dirty glasses, empty water bottles and the rest of the trash that life collects. The matress on the floor conforms to my body. Its old, but its mine.

I stop moving my foot and close my eyes. The television mumurs in the background. It gets louder by the second. Everything always seems to get louder as I drift into unconsciousness. My mind is hungrier and more aware. It is a sponge without prejudice. I open and shut my eyes again. I pull off my glasses and drop them amongst the rest of the trash accidentally knocking over a dirty glass that projects a dim THUD into the world.

I roll over and move my foot again. Around and around. I remember my Uncle Jacob laying on my grandparents sofa doing the same thing. My aunt teasing him about it while trying to wake him. She wanted his attention then. He gave it to her with a smile. Now, he gives it to her with a check every month and longing to be wanted again. I feel satisfied that I have one of his characteristics even thought we're not "technically" related. Its my memory that no one else will ever share.

The television grows louder. Everything sounds slightly more profound than it normally would. It fades away.This is what it is to be alive.

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