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You can’t relax, no matter how much you tell yourself to.
You sighed into your hands as you laid back down in bed. The tension in your shoulders is as sore as it always has been. Your room is dark. It’s been six hours since you last woke up.
In your mind was a constantly ticking clock, that of which seemed to only inch closer and closer to the next hour, mocking you for how slowly your body moved. Every ten or so minutes, you thought: This time, I’ll get up, and I’ll do everything that I needed to do hours ago.
With that thought in mind, you were frozen, suddenly wrought with images of the rest of the day, where you would be running late on this internal schedule because you wouldn’t just start the day and get out of bed. And how shameful it was, to be so unproductive, so lazy, such a waste of space and flesh that you could hardly do more than think about getting up for hours. When the benchmark for the tasks you set passed, you could only imagine the day that could’ve been, the day you let pass by and waste away, all because you wouldn’t move.
Eventually, it became too much pressure to even inch your ankle towards the edge of the mattress, and you spent another full day counting the hours you’ve spent on your phone, rather than doing something better with your time. The meaningless blabbing and endless scroll of curated videos fed you shallow laughter that dragged you further down the drip of a melting candle, until you felt a headache straining behind your eyes.
When was the last time you had gotten up to use the bathroom?
Your mouth was parched. The empty water bottles were stacking up on the floor next to your trash can.
You weren’t sure if you felt like cooking anything, even if you should eat. Was there even anything in the fridge? You didn’t want to cook. You didn’t have the energy for anything. You should’ve bought more frozen food or take out. The leftovers were easier to reheat.
When you finally turned your phone screen off, you realized you couldn’t even remember the past thirty minutes, much less the past several hours. You felt happy watching those silly little skits and the beloved, familiar characters you adored, but none of them lasted. Eventually you ran out of things to watch, and the distraction could not buffer how awful you felt for not getting anything done today. Story of your life, wasn’t it?
You said you’d do it tomorrow- and that was what you said the day before. You know that your time is limited, and eventually this week will repeat, turning over into the next. Every day would just go the same, blurring into a meaningless gray sludge that meant nothing. It would all be your fault, for not taking your life into your own hands. You were the problem. If only you would…
There was so, so much you needed to do. The dishes haven’t been done in days. You didn’t even want to think about the state of your shower. You’re not sure when you last cleaned your toilet, or vacuumed the floors, or… You were such a mess on your own, you’re not sure how you’ve even survived this long.
You didn’t think you’d make it this far, to be honest. Now, you’re at a loss for where to take yourself. For days, you’ve gotten through with an attitude of just making everyone else’s lives easier, but that wasn’t a sustainable purpose. You made yourself so small and easy to consume that you snuffed everything unique about yourself into a smear. You’ve been laying in bed for weeks. Maybe more. You’re not sure. You didn’t remember, anyway.
Responsible, normal people can take care of themselves all on their own. You’re not doing it right. You weren’t doing anything right, and you…
You. Could hear someone moving around in your living room.
Should you… do something about that?
After a moment’s deliberation about home robberies and break-ins, you hesitantly took up the first object near you that could be used as a blunt-force weapon. Not that you’d do very much damage, but this… it was worth trying, right?
You tread softly out of the doorway and into the hallway leading to the living room. The door wasn’t in view yet, which meant you could try to stick to the walls and peer around the corners. You had an odd chill along your arms and legs, a warning that resounded through your body and told you that you were no longer alone in your home. Much more, that primal instinct told you that whatever was in here with you was far larger and more dangerous than you could ever imagine.
Yet… you couldn’t muster the energy to be afraid.
You looked around the corner, though your heart beat swiftly in thought of what you may see.
Standing before your sofa was a tall, tall man. Or… it looked like a man, anyway. Clad in a red suit jacket and dark dress pants, he seemed as if he came right out of your late night television game shows. In the deep, shifting darkness of your abode, his head could have even been mistaken for your beloved, old CRT.
Then, his broad shoulders turned towards you, and you realized just how large he was. Why, he filled up the entire room with his presence, and his antennae-that was your TV mounted on his shoulders-brushed the ceiling. Those antennae atop his head even twitched slightly at the stimuli, which sent your mind racing with random questions.
But first of all. Why on earth was he here? What were you seeing? And why was he wearing your TV on his head?
None of the doors in the room were open. Nothing looked disturbed. He was just… there. Standing in the middle of the room, facing you, and… wringing his gloved hands?
He had no eyes.
You stared at him, and debated whether or not to swing the bat. Were you in a horror movie right now? Was this a horror movie? Should you move silently to avoid being heard by the creature?
“You’re finally back.” The TV spoke, voice softly rasping with white static. “I thought you would never come back.”
You should really hit him. This was so strange.
You put the weapon down, slowly, behind you.
Rambling, the stranger continued. “I haven’t seen you in days. I thought- well, I thought you were upset with me, and that-that you would never want to see me again.”
You stared at the glowing white screen, and at the trembling, silly smile the monster gave you, as if begging for you to deny that you’d ever leave him.
Were you in danger right now?
“Um,” and your throat hurt from how long it’s been since you’ve spoken to anyone. The monster’s antennae flicked back, as if aghast at the sound. “I don’t really go anywhere.”
The man smiled down at you, as if you were capable of doing no wrong, and his hands folded together in front of his lap as he tilted his giant head. “There’s nothing wrong with being a homebody, sweetheart. Why, seventy-five percent of my viewers are homebodies! I, myself, am more of a stay-at-home wife if anything.” He tilted his head in a manner that made you think he was winking.
“I was just so worried about you. You haven’t left your room to have some TV time in ages. I thought maybe you hated me so much you crawled out your window and ran away-”
You shook your head, and he gasped, covering his mouth. “But you didn’t! You’re still here!”
Regaining confidence, his previously hunched shoulders and bowed back straightened up. Somehow, he seemed to gain height, though he had to crouch down to avoid sticking his metal head through your ceiling. “Then the show can go on! Come here, don’t you remember how you’d fall asleep watching me? Just like old times. Come here, come sit.”
His body language was so theatrical and made up, but you found it oddly entertaining. Whatever was happening right now had to be some sort of dream, wasn’t it? It all felt so real.
“Yeah, okay.”
You slowly walked over to the sofa, but stopped as he sat down before you. His body encompassed the whole thing, and oddly, it reminded you of an overly large cat crushing a small box in its fluff.
With a goofy look, he smiled down at you, his legs pulled up to his chest, his giant gloves resting on top of his knees. “Come on. Come sit with me.” His voice was soothing, and despite yourself, you began to feel your body loosen from its defensive stiffness.
This was the longest you’ve gone without feeling ashamed of yourself for something. The air about him was magnetic, tugging in your attention and your body, providing yourself with a soft fog of dream-like comfort and security, far away from the pain of reality.
His screen was the only source of light in the room, a pure white glow that was just bright enough to illuminate his immediate surroundings. Your eyes were drawn to it, and every time you glanced away to check that the doors were locked, you looked back at him, as if there were a small voice urging you to do so.
It was comforting to get lost in the glow. You needed this.
You stopped just before his folded legs. Over your head, his smile grew, and he leaned down-contorting himself to fit. His face stopped just close enough for you to see the rainbow pixels on his curved screen. Your breath fogged against his lips, and you saw them fog over with the steam created.
Between you, there was the low, harmonious buzz of static, a gentle humming that resonated from his body and tickled the inside of your head. Your headache began to wane as you continued to watch him, arms slack at your sides, letting the cool glass eventually touch your warm face.
“There you are,” he breathed out, and you felt the slightest brush against your lips. His smile was wide, pale cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “There’s my favorite watcher. My number one star, only star in my sky.”
Your body felt loose and boneless as he cupped his large glove behind your back, cradling your sore muscles gently as you lost control of your legs.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Let go, you’ll be alright. You’re safe here with me.”
You tried to relax, but a knot of tension still stubbornly refused to unwind inside of you. A spot of frustration and guilt began to build, but he hushed the persistent voice in your head and brushed his lips against your cheek.
There, the growing warmth of his screen lingered on your hot skin, and you felt your hair catch between his fingers, as if he needed to hold onto every last thread of your slowly unraveling body.
“Is that why I haven’t seen you in so long?” he wondered, his fingers massaging your sore back. It felt amazing, and you melted more into his grasp. “You’re so stressed. You haven’t let yourself get away from any of it at all.”
Your mouth felt too heavy to move and confess that you’ve spent hours on your phone. You tried again to relax yourself, not wanting to see the smiling giant grow sad with you, but you couldn’t.
“Watch me.” He instructed, that voice still so gentle. Unphased. He wasn’t angry yet.
You kept on watching him, just as he said.
“Good, now take a deep breath in.”
You took a deep breath in, and held it.
“And…”
His screen was so calming to watch. There was a pattern swirling on it, now, slow and rhythmic. You weren’t sure if the seconds were becoming hours. None of it really mattered anymore. Nothing that hurt you or made you feel guilty mattered anymore. Nothing could hurt you now.
You let your mind melt into his open palms, cradled preciously by someone who cared so much about you. Who wouldn’t be mad with you for falling short of expectations.
“Release.”
You felt your eyes slide shut, the breath slowly escaping. Your ribs contracted with the loss, and you felt the muscles straining in your back and shoulders loosen. You tried to open your eyelids again, but they were so heavy. You didn’t find anything else to think about. Not even about his disappointment.
“Good, good.”
His praise was like a warm blanket over your cold body. Even behind your eyelids, you still could feel, see the glow of his screen, easing you into rest.
He shifted your limp body into his lap. Your knees rested over one thigh, and your head was pillowed on the other. The material of his pants was smooth, almost silky. You could feel a machine-like vibration, a resonant hum, beneath your cheek and inside his body.
“You’re alright, dear. Just relax.”
This time, you will. You finally can.