As I Lay Me Down
How do you sleep at night?
I punch in the code quickly and wait for the hiss of pressurization. The door opens slowly on automatic hinges. Only two people know of this room aside from myself and neither of them have ever entered. Without the smallest thought of consideration I press the small black button located on the side of the wall and the door closes itself again.
The darkness rushes in to meet me and I watch in silence as the last crack of light slithers away. I see my bed, a mattress full of water, and my dresser in the corner. But when the door is fully closed with the final mechanical click I see nothing. Whether eyes be open, or eyes be closed there is nothing for them to view. There are no windows or lights here. The darkness is complete. The perfect shade of night.
I shed my clothes one article at a time. Each piece of cloth, a burden happily removed. When I am finished, I stand there but for a second, my body finally free. And though my burden has been lifted my body sags from the weariness of having held its weight. I ache from the daily pressure of its downward push.
In those moments I want it the most…
But I summon my last strengths to hold out for moments longer. Slowly I drag myself to the small twin-sized bed and lay me down upon it. I roll onto my back and look towards where I know the ceiling should be. But I cannot see a ceiling, thus the ceiling doesn't exist. I cannot see my bed, thus my body floats upon an ocean. I do not pull on covers for the room is set to match my body temperature perfectly. It is not cold, nor is it warm. It only is.
I am not there, nor am I gone. I am not right, nor am I wrong. I am not good, nor am I bad. I merely exist. And when I realize this, she comes to me.
I see her face above my face as she whispers sweet things for only me to here. It is not merely understanding that she grants me, but forgiveness as well. A momentary comfort that validates the rest of the day. She does not tell me, "Sweetheart, you did the right thing." But she smiles grimly and tells me it's necessary.
She says, "Do what you must to come to me."
She holds the boy within her arms and smiles her grim smile of regret and longing.
She says, "Do what you must to come to me."
Don't you dream?
I smell the shifting aromas as I step out of the shower. The air is crisper, moister than before. This is fact and yet intriguing. I towel off slowly and carefully as any moisture left would lead to… discomfort. And though it would only be a minor inconvenience, it is avoidable, and thus should be avoided.
My mind shuffles through the various faces of the day.
Commander, Major, Second Child, Suzahara… Ikari.
Floating expressions with names, but without context. I live and exist for the people around my. I fight and will die for the people around me.
I enter the room and lay upon the bed. I roll to avoid an errant spring in the back. Another inconvenience, yet equally avoidable. I pull the sheet upon me, but leave the comforter. It is a warm night in Tokyo-3.
My window is open.
My eyes are open.
My door is open.
I am open.
You need not knock, only enter.
You need not ask, only take.
I am yours.
I belong to everyone.
-But then the lids close down, and I am only mine.
I see me, as I would like to be. A person a trusted, a person respected. Efficient and knowledgeable in every way. I give my all for what is important, and my existence gains value in the eyes of all.
All will want me, all will need me, and I will give myself to all.
-Then comes his face and with it comes confusion.
He brings me not comfort, but a world of questions. Do I need to exist for all? Do I benefit from the greater good? Is it wrong to want? Is it wrong to desire to touch to hold to know to care for?
And for a moment I convince myself. I don't want to live for them. I only want to live for Him…
-And the lids open up.
My breathing is abnormal. I am perspiring and I do not know why. I look at the familiar pattern of the ceiling and it brings me minor comfort. My mind slows enough for me to realize I am afraid.
But this fear is abnormal… I am glad to be afraid. I want to feel the fear course through my body and watch as my core foundation shakes. So I close the lids again and try to recapture his face.
But he is not there.
I am not his.
I am not yours.
I am not mine.
I am nothing.
Are you listening to me?
I pull the covers up to my chin and try to relax to the sounds of the music. The sounds streaming from my headphones are both tranquilizing and agitating. My heart increases with the tempo of the music. I can't remember the last time I've fallen asleep to a fast tempo song. I only keep an ear buds in one ear. I like to listen to the sounds of the house.
Her room is of particular interest.
She's the type of person who sleeps what she dreams. Sometimes she calls out names.Kaji, Mama, Daddy, Misato, Hikari, Shinji. And though she doesn't say mine often, I shiver when she does. Sometimes I hear her moving under her covers, shuffling in random motions and kicking out wither feet. Often she snores. But tonight she's moaning out quietly, crying in her sleep.
In the depths of my mind I dream of reaching out to her. I want to walk into her room shake her awake and tell her that it's all a dream. I want to stay with her and comfort her until she falls back asleep. But there is no way for me to reach her from here. The walls are thin, yet vast as an ocean.
I don't know how to swim.
I listen and I wait. She cries out only briefly. Then there is silence, and snoring once again. My music slows down and I breathe easily again. I keep my eyes closed and I wait and I listen.
She's up again and in a talkative mood.
She won't or she can't go to sleep without a bit of alcohol in her. The serving size is often proportional the difficulty of her day. But even with a drink sometimes it's hard for her. She talks to the penguin because she hates to be alone.
I hear them in the kitchen whispering and squawking away. Each time I'm surprised by how quiet the two of them can be. He replies quickly enough for me to wonder if he can understand. I don't hear their words, but merely murmurs of sounds. I imagine a deep conversation of philosophical worth. Not a sad lonely woman seeking sympathy from a bird.
My door creaks open and a sliver of light creeps through. I want to see her face, but I keep my eyes closed and pretend. Despite it all, I think she somehow knows that I know that she's there. I imagine her and the bird creeping their heads through the door, peaking in on my gently resting form.
I can almost see the sweetest smile on her face as she whispers, "Hey Shinji… goodnight."
The door closes slowly and I no longer see the slither of light. I hear the quiet opening of the other door across the ocean. She knows the girl would be mad if she found out. She'd chewed her out pretty good when she first realized it was happening. Though why she thinks it's creepy, I'll never know.
Nevertheless, her and the penguin are there again. Whispering words better said in the dark.
My music slows, and my heart calms further. I am weakly glowing with grim satisfaction.
And I think to myself in the depths of my mind:
They're not perfect, but at least they're mine.
They're not perfect, but at least they're mine.