Sup3rnality

My morning started out wonderful, but bittersweet all at once.

Reluctance held me captive in my bed, refusing to acknowledge the cruel world outside. The one where the sun shines down between the gaps of my curtains to tell me my weekend is all but a memory. Welcome to Reality, Hazlin. Time tick-tocks its incessant impatience.

I rolled over to throw my arms around my comfort that pulls me deeper into my blatant ignorance. The one that lulls me into sleep and lays a stalwart bedfellow. Oh yes, my blessed bantal, I'm talking about you.

But Jewel sings into my ear, a heavenly voice that devilishly forces me to give up my dreams and embrace the day. I put her on snooze more than a couple of times, til I realized that she was the lark, not the nightingale, unforgivingly welcoming the day.

I rolled out of bed, yielding my comfort to lie unaccompanied. I went through my morning routine, going through the motions just for the sake of having to; but not wanting to. Ah, how I hate you, Monday. Today's Monday.

And yet, partially dressed and hence, partially ready, I found myself too taken to ignore the temptation of lying in bed again for a few more precious moments. Just to bask in the comfort once more, til I leave it for a long long time. So I settled myself among my bantals, curled around them and held them close, and let them do their magic. And it obliged me; and pulled me deep into a warm embrace that had me on a high for hours. I love last minute lie-ins.

Then, reality rears it's head once more through the curtains and shines its light on me. Harsher, brighter, and more demanding. I knew it was time. It was a bittersweetness that had my heart half swelling, and half breaking. Because my arms felt like they could not be pried away from the comfort I would give myself up to over and over. I could spend forever in a day if it meant never losing sight, or touch, or smell, or sound, or taste of ning jing.

Shush you bloody lark.

And so we part ways dear comfort, as I leave through the door and away. Holding back emotions that threatened to come bursting at the seams at that last embrace. Because when all is said and done, it is you that starts my day, and to you I return weary at night to seek comfort. And all the time in between is spent thinking of my morning waking in your presence and counting the minutes that are like hours, and hours like days til the nighttime. I could see no point of the trying day, if it wasn't worth the sacrifice to survive to the part where I get to be in your tranquility. So I shall start my countdown now til the night.

Until then.

Love,
N.e-Q