by Jared Baker
A piece in which a frustrated narrator takes out his frustrations on the character.
| You wake up realizing that you left the light on. You were obviously able to sleep with it on, but you get up to turn it off anyway. Regardless of the inconvenience, you leave the comfort of your bed, fumble over to the light switch, and flip it off. Then you look at your clock and see that it is time to get up. You feel mild frustration because you now feel like you were cheated. You slept the same amount that you would have with the light off, but its not about that. It's about the frustration that is paired with the knowledge that you are incapable of choosing your choice. You can't turn the light off and go back to bed now. Your choice is invalid, now get dressed.
At this time another choice has arisen. You can either turn back on the light or fumble some more and get dressed in the dark. So, you reach for the light switch again, and now that its dark you have to grasp at the wall clumsily until you find the switch. You flip it on and due to the amount of time that had passed in the dark, you are blinded.
Soon the spots fade from your eyes and you are able to see. Sadly you view is the bedroom that you have been neglecting for the past weeks. Clothes strewn across the floor, you are sure they are clean. You just lacked the energy, or desire, to put them away. So, there they lie, mounded, and crumpled. Their lifeless figures resemble fallen soldiers on a battle field. Not wanting to do anything about it you flip the light off and hope that there might be something to wear in the dryer.
No breakfast. Cold coffee. Off to work.