I can't be bothered.

I collapse on the bed. The clean sheets, the soft doona. I lay, eyes open, staring at nothing, glazed over. The voice says: “You wanted to do some art during these days. You have done none. Do some painting, some ceramics. Build, sculpt, carve, create. Remember last week, the remembered peace, the joy?” No I answer. “You do remember. You love it. And you haven’t done all that which you had planned. Time is against you. Art! Clay! Create! Enjoy!” it cajoles. I do remember.

I can’t be bothered.

I wait here alone, as the afternoon fades, the room growing darker. Evening comes on, I do not move. I await My Lover, but they do not come. I am here all alone. Again. Forever Alone. Dusk. My eyes can see quite well the shades of grey, the silhouettes, the contrasts, the shapes. I lie here alone…. no, wait, my Cat appears. Alights on the bed and finds a spot, a cosy place formed by my body. She curls up beside my warmth. I am all alone in the world. Except for my cat. I feel her body vibrating against mine. She is warm. She goes to sleep. The vibrating stops. I could get up, turn on a light. Do something, anything. Live. I can’t be bothered. It grows ever darker and I like this dark, it is easier to hide, to hibernate when it is dark and no-one can see, I do not have to hide in the dark, It shelters me.

Oh and here as I lay, my inner self saying, “Go to yoga then, you can do it Baby. You like yoga, you love yoga. You used to love yoga. Off you go. Time to go now. Come on Baby…..” an incessant pleading that I ignore easily, though not without guilt, the voice so far away. The minutes tick by. Then it is too late. The voice stops. I loved yoga. Once.

I can’t be bothered.

It is spring is it not? But the evening has brought in a cool breeze that enters through the windows and makes the blind dance, banging against the windowsill.
A cool breeze it is and my feet are cold. A wave of goose bumps erupts upon my bare skin, as the breeze kisses skin softly like a lover; the hairs on my arm standing on end, and I snuggle deeper into the covers, deeper against my Cat. I should put a jacket on; a jumper; my pj’s.

But I can’t be bothered.

I wonder about dinner. What should I cook? Do I have stuff to cook with? No, not really. I went shopping only yesterday, but I bought enough only for one meal, plus staples. I do have enough for my usual, Stir-fry, but do I have noodles? Perhaps not. I ponder. I don’t want stir fry, I have that all the time. “There is frozen fish, salad? Toast, cereal, eggs? Pasta, rice, couscous?” The voice blurts out the entirety of my pantry. The options are really only cereal or toast and eggs. Or fish, chips and salad. I love food. It is my only pleasure. I consider the block of Lindt chocolate, I have a little bit left. I love food, it brings me joy. “A nice takeaway?” But I continue to lay here in the dark. My stomach growls. I ignore it. I don’t feel like food anymore.

I can’t be bothered.

I listen to the sounds around me, as I lay here in the dark, with my Cat. A dog in the distance barking, cars driving on the main roads a few blocks away. I think of the occupants, coming home from a long days work. Life continuing around me. More dogs barking at each other, nearer now, than farther away. More cars, noisy engines, motor bikes….., and closer still the blind in this room thumping to the wind, the metal blind in the next room clanking to the same wind. Footsteps in the home next door. Domesticity. Life. The Cat stretches, yawns, settles again. The warm body touching mine. I remain here, alone except for my Cat, eyes open, looking at nothing, not moving, growing colder, in this darkened room.