In the morning, I sat straight up in bed, the blanket falling into a mound around my hips. Waking up was abrupt, as if someone vacuumed me straight out of my dreams. There was an almost ceremonious air today, so without delay I untangled myself and headed for the calendar. Was I a little too vigorous in my movement? I turned to check: the mound of blankets lay undisturbed. With a swift tug, I ripped the last thin sheet of paper off. Now what is left hanging is the metal stump with jagged edges.
The insides of my mouth tasted weird as I ran my tongue along the outer surface of my upper teeth. I washed up, and went to do the laundry, clipping last night’s wash onto the laundry line in my tiny balcony. All was quiet in the house as I returned to my bedroom.
No more calendars to buy next year. I sat back onto my bed lightly and stared at the wall.
Today I feel a strange pent up energy in me. Not the tingling anticipation the day before New Year’s. I was filled with an anxiety to complete what I have set out to do. I had planned today’s schedule, went over and over it since three years ago, updated it with expired or new regrets that I must complete. As meticulously as I would have planned for my wedding. I reached over to my phone and stared at the schedule. I had about 15 minutes before the first thing in the schedule came up.
With surprisingly little effort I dressed myself. Everyday for three years, it had been a struggle for me to care enough to still go to work. The habit never formed and I had to fight the sense of pointlessness that grows even more omnipotent every morning, except today. Sadly, I have exhausted all my tomorrows, hence I am now filled with purpose. All my friends, old colleagues, chose to abandon their posts after the release of the official expiry date for our world, if not immediately at least at some point in time when the feeling got overwhelming. No point in productivity. No point in brushing your teeth, or doing chores. Everything will end definitely. No point in funerals either. Nobody wants to spend the time mourning other’s death knowing that when they die there will not be any humans left in the world to mourn for them anyway.
I looked at my phone quickly as I cooked a nice hearty breakfast: two scrambled eggs, two slices of toast, half a tomato, coffee for me only. It was hard to keep the pointless feeling at bay now, even though I have anticipated the spike in suicide numbers especially on the last day. I tried to distance myself from it by closing all my social media and pushing my phone far away. The sense of closure got unbearable for many of my acquaintances. A pity though, to have resisted so long only to give up at the end. The end of everything and death are not the same thing to me, so I have never really participated in the dwindling discussions about suicide in my messaging groups.
I set the table and sat at my usual seat. Only 7 more minutes till I have to jump-start my busy schedule. I stared at the steam curling above my coffee. Maybe I should take the street that turns right from my apartment. Usually I avoided it. Crimes are not rampant and cities are not burning, but undeniably there are places where those who gave up on law and order gather and fester.
Time to dig into my breakfast. I burnt my tongue a little with the coffee.
My gaze rested on the fridge. I took another bite and headed towards it, tugging it a little to open the door that I have not opened in months. There was nothing in it except the ice tray half filled with coffee cubes. Grocery shopping was a daily affair. There was no need for storage. Why did I keep the refrigerator on then?
I ran out of hot water for another cup of coffee. I put the kettle on and finished my breakfast and washed the dishes. The clean sink made me smile: still disciplined enough to not leave the dirty dishes piling. We did great.
Finding my wallet after a little panic (I must have misplaced it after trudging home yesterday) I placed all the necessary things into my handbag. 2 more minutes until I have to step out of the house. I secured my watch.
Should I? Would I have time? I shifted a little, then quickly dropped my bag and headed into my toilets to get the small potted plants. I watered them and arranged them along the balcony window.
Nervously I paced back to the door and picked up my handbag. I placed my hand on the handle of the door and stared at the seconds hand inch forward, much like how I used to do during examinations as a student, watching the clock for the time to start writing.
10…9…8…7…
I heard something from the kitchen. The water started to boil and the whistle started to get shrill and loud. Without thinking I dumped my bag and dashed to the stove to turn it off. How could I forget!
I stared at my watch intently and realized the seconds hand has inched past 8. Whatever. I leaned against the stove and tried to rationalize: it is only twenty seconds, you’re not late. But I could not get angry at myself. And the seconds were only ticking by. It got harder to convince myself. Whatever.
I breathed deeply and dropped all my belongings. I suddenly lost all motivation to follow through with this plan three years in the making.
Starting to undress, I headed to the bedroom again. Maybe at the end of the day, when I feel like it, I could take in the laundry that smells like the sun.
I crawled back into the blankets as gently as I could, yet he still woke up and peered at me with a sleepy eye. “Good morning.” he mumbled and turned over to face me.
“Breakfast is ready, if you want.” I lay down. He groaned an acknowledgement.
I curled up in his arms and breathed deeply.
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