LATENT ASSASSIN

Almost every morning I wake up and my mind does a quick review of what just happened. Most of the dreams are already forgotten, and the ones that linger read like fortune cookies written in broken English. I roll over. Now I think about the night before. Sometimes I'm relieved to know I stayed in, saved some cash, and that surplus of energies should allow my morning to run a little more smoothly. Sometimes I can immediately feel the old almost worthless alcohol buzz oozing off me, and I wonder why I wasted so much energy just to have a conversation with a friend. Regardless; I've now been reset. I have a day ahead of me and an impending evening wrought with simple models of moral circumstance. Still in bed, I'm almost paralyzed with the task of sorting out my persistant past, present, and future. It's such a sloppy process that I almost feel completely new. I might as well be three years old learning the days of the week for the first time. Today(Wednesday) I recognize just how vulnerable I am when resetting. Throughout an average day I demand my personal space, I spend my hard earned money, I make friends and strangers laugh with my polished wit, and I make sure I stand up straight and keep a close eye on my surroundings. Then all of that conscious effort vanishes and I sleep. My strength is gone. How much easier can I make it for my enemies to blot me out, I wonder, but even they let me sleep. Thank you, enemies. My Neighbors remembered to unplug their iron, so I didn't choke on the smoke of our block burning down. Thank you neighbors. My body kept me breathing and kept my cancers at a safe distance from my vital organs. Thanks automatic motor functions. A new day and I can already feel my strength returning. Everyone else seems charged as well. A delivery truck is idling, waiting for its driver and his empty dolly. Members of the local gym jog to the gym to jog in the gym. My roommates make their escapes to work. These are our attempts to assassinate the naked delicate person in our bed each night. The us who is lucky to be alive.