  It was a knock at the front door than finally woke me up. Rather, it was the second knock on the door that got me out of bed.
Id been sleeping for about 14 hours, so I suppose its no surprise to most people that Id finally rouse myself, but thats not how I see it. The spell was broken, and I loathed whoever would disrupt my hibernation. I dont get out much these days. Through the technological marvels of internet communications, I still manage to get my work in to my professors. They seem to understand, those of them who know what Ive been through, my situation. Not that it has anything to do with specific events. I just dont want to go anywhere. Im afraid to. They know, and although my attendance is a dead weight on my grade, I still do the work and get the grades. But I cant leave. The doorbell rings, and I watch through the peephole to make sure they go away.
UPS, mailman, solicitors, students. They come, they break the silence with their knuckles, and they stand there. And I hold my breath in fear until I see them go. Im a twenty-five year old shut-in. I keep the shades pulled tight, the windows closed, have cigarettes in the garage to avoid being seen. Im twenty-five, and I act like Im waiting to die. I dont of course. Ive felt that before, for years, but this is nothing like that.
Certain things lend life a redemptive quality. Like a hot bath for an hour, watching tv or reading a book. Films, drinking, writing. These things still excite me, still move me. Wanting to die thats when you feel like disappearing in the face of the things you love. But these are all introverted experiences. Things done alone. They only redeem to a certain degree.
I tried a relationship a couple months ago. I did it, I went out with someone safe, who Id known for years and fallen for since the first day I met her. It was safe because I knew her already. And safe because the ending was written into the first lines of the story. No surprises. She left back then, and she left again. She left weeks before we broke up. Vacant rooms, silent hallways, muted telephones. A heart full of fear both specific and generalized. And a dryer full of bed sheets signaling the end of the day just as it began. No surprises. 
