Lonely Man

Everything is quiet in the room. Boredom engulfs the atmosphere in quick succession. I turn right on my bed, it seems like it’s not interested at the slightest thought of me sleeping on it, so it makes some nagging squeaky sound like it’s trying to warn me from any further movements. I obey and stop moving. My eyes start rolling around my room, caressing everything in sight. The towel seems not interested in my random optical advances, so I still roll my eyes across the room.

My cupboard flaps open its door in slow motion, yawning like a tired dog in the heat of noon. The sound coming from its hinges echo out a boredom situation. I look at my perfume expecting it to press itself and release some nicety fragrance to ease the situation. It does not move, it mocks me by dropping its cap, probably trying to tell me that it was loose all day. My eyes still take a tour of the room. The small T.V is off, reluctant not to go on, even with a red dim light from its remote sensor.

At the other side of the room, the curtain seems to tease me with a mockery flap of its one sided cotton strip. It brings in the light and makes it disappear again. It seems to enjoy the frantic drama as it works in conjunction with the wind passing through the open space in the window that I lazily left open in the morning. My emotions are too weak to let me think on anything positive. I try so hard to seduce sleep, it plays hard to get in the same fashion my second girlfriend did in my three month fruitless pursuit. Sleep seemed not to care at how hard my efforts were in seducing it. It won’t just come, no matter what.

I forget and move again, this time round, the bed is furious. Every movement, it makes a statement. It’s about to say, “what the *** is wrong with you?” So I stay put in a bid to obey its frustrations. I am facing up the ceiling; it’s got nothing new to tell me, just a white surface decorated with golden chandeliers hanging while singing a melodic refrain. The air conditioner suddenly begins to blow a cold whistle. Some winter kind of temperature begins to occupy my room. I feel it from the tip of my feet, in an attempt to remind me that the duvet singled them out. I quickly fold them back in the duvet, just to tell them how much I love and care for them. They get cosy and relax, collecting the little heat that was created while the duvet was trying so hard to emit my body temperature to the cold room.

The air conditioner seems to get serious with its mockery, as the temperatures drop down low and lower. I cannot help it anymore; I get out of bed irrespective of its squeaky warnings and boring rantings. I go check the A.C and its temperature is at a cool 17, am like, “are you kidding me???” So I offer myself some quick justice and switch off the A.C. At this moment, a weird feeling engulfs my mind. Thoughts of home and people back home attack my mind. I imagine those warm nights with family members back home, it looks perfect. My mind is lost, its wandering in Africa, a place I call home, it has always been home. My funny friends with their mockery and exciting jokes. My ever serious father and my loving mother. Just before the good smile decorates my face, the image of the woman I love appears right in front of my face.

Some good smile sets in and attacks my cheeks. I feel temporarily warm, the bed is quiet, this emotion is so powerful, and it cannot let any of these non-living objects occupy a space in my mind. The towel seems hopeless, the efforts by the bed to make a statement are fruitless, and I do not need to seduce sleep any more. I feel I have the power to control my thoughts; it’s a strong feeling, but very deceptive. My girlfriend stretches out her hand to hold my mine, that’s when I realise its just a feeling, as elusive as the wind.

I could not touch her hands; neither could I feel her warmth. The AC came back again, the bed started squeaking, and my wardrobe becomes a nuisance. All of a sudden, boredom sets in. Sleep begins to seduce me. My muscles cannot move, my eyes stop rolling, I realise am empty, a vehicle running on the last drop of fuel. Am coming to a halt. I just can’t. Am I missing someone or is it just a sad feeling? I then realize am just a lonely man. . .