I couldn’t get up.

I couldn’t get up today.
I could feel the gravitational pull of the bed below me. 
The sheets clutching me as if I was the last one, the final straw in a battle that is yet to be won. The key to the survival of that helpless feeling that nobody is coming. The feeling that you alone own the result of this battle and it’s not going to be good.

I couldn’t get up today.
The list was too long and the conversations were far from effortless. I struggled to listen.

I lied — I didn’t listen. I couldn’t listen. 
I could provide a willing and interested human prop.
I can convince anyone but, I can’t listen.

I couldn’t get up today.
I wanted to remember something but I couldn’t.
There should be something to remember but there isn’t.
There isn’t anything to remember, that’s the problem.

I couldn’t.

Like what you read? Give Richard C. Connor a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.