Tomorrow

You wake up but you don't get up. What's the point? It's just today again. It's been today for the last three hundred and sixty five days. You can't remember anymore your last yesterday. You can't imagine your next tomorrow. It's dark outside. The dark is so bright it burns your retinas. You put the sheets over your head to block it out. You can't see for the brightness. It's so airy that you have to suck and struggle for breath. You don't want to die under here in such bright darkness, even more than that you don't want to live under here. You get up. It's been days. You woke up this second. You woke up today. The second today of the week that does not exist. You are not alone. There are others who are stuck on today. Some celebrate it, some try to out run it, some question it. They look at the calendars as they burn them and scream, "Why meee?!!" The calendars look back and smirk.

"Why not you?"

There's really not point to it all. There is no point to any of it. Today, tomorrow, yesterday, it's all in what you call it. It's all the same thing. Last year, next year, semantics and a few more wrinkles. You perch on the edge of the vast pink couch like a hippopotamus in a tutu. You look in a mirror, you contemplate today's wrinkles. They are deeper than today's. Today's will be deeper than today.

A wee part of your brain triggers and a thought runs through and it's gone. you caught a flit of it. it looked like letters. You think you recognized a "y". An extra "y". A "y" in front? It's too much. You make toast. You make a note to buy more bread today. You wonder how on earth you are going to choose which pre-made pre-frozen, labeled dinner to eat when they all say today. Who made these frozen treats? You might remember her today, you might not. She is from those past yesterdays.What are yesterday's? Now you've gone and confused yourself. You find an old picture from today. There is a woman smiling at you. She's holding a puppy. Today you are alone. You open up the calendar to today. The page says it's tomorrow. You wonder how it can already be tomorrow. You turn to the next page. It too says tomorrow. 

She's coming home tomorrow. You remember. Tomorrow she gets home. Or maybe she leaves yesterday. Either way it is finally tomorrow. you shake your head and move into action. You better hurry up, you don't want to fall behind. The future's already happening, whether you want it to or not.