A Requiem For Thanatos

Every morning I wake up cold.

It doesn't seem to matter if you're next to me, or if I wear warmer pajamas.

Even if I get in a sleeping bag under the blankets.

I still wake up cold.

And not only do I wake up cold.

I wake up early because I'm cold.

So every morning I wake up tired.

Tired and cold.

There is one benefit to being so cold all the time though.

I'm so used to being cold, that when I am awake, I'm immune.

I can wear whatever I like wherever I go, and I never have to leave because it's getting cold.

I'm already cold when I get there after all.

I don't think there's much of a benefit to being tired, but you learn to live with it.

Sometimes I wish that I could sleep in with you.

But I don't want to make you cold too.

So even when you aren't sleeping in I still wake up first.

And when I do, I stand right in front of the curtains and imagine that when I pull them apart, the warmth of the light that hits me in the chest will charge me up for good, and I'll never be cold again. I open the curtains just a little, so I don't melt.

The only thing I see is my friend outside waiting for me, and I forget all about the warm light.

I forget about the light every morning just like I forget my friend will be out there waiting when I open the curtains.

Truthfully I only say friend because this friend is almost always with me.

We're much more like acquaintances, but it feels a little rude to say about someone who puts in so much effort.

It's also a lot less creepy if it's a friend that shows up everywhere I go.

My friend started appearing around the same time as I became cold. I don't remember which came first, but it is suspicious.

I'm usually very quiet, as is my friend, so we've never talked about it, or at all for that matter.

The only kind of communication we've ever had is my friend motioning for me to come closer.

It always made me think my friend might know a way that I could stop being cold.

We never exchanged words, but I felt there was some kind of understanding between us.

For more Sundays than I can remember I followed my friend everywhere. It was the only day I had time enough to try and figure things out. For someone who was almost always with me, again and again, my friend appeared just out of my reach. If I ever got close my friend would reappear elsewhere, always someplace more difficult than the last.

So many times the fading light brought my Sunday to a frustrating close as my friend continued beckoning towards me from the far side of a notoriously busy road.

I would return home cold, tired, defeated.

And hungry.

There was never any time left over for food, not that it ever crossed my mind before I was forced to accept my week's failure.

It was like magic when I stepped in the door.

As soon as I saw you I could feel my stomach again.

You always said yes when I asked.

"Are you hungry?"

Maybe I just needed to try harder, but it felt like if things continued this way I'd end up losing everything for what was starting to seem like an impossible task. Chasing my friend only made me more tired, and before I knew it I felt a sense of dread whenever I thought about the end of the week.

Why did I have to be so cold?

It was messing everything up.

As the end of the week came around again I ventured out on what was sure to be another useless excursion.

It felt like I was living the same day over and over.

Just wasting my life away.

Even my friend seemed bored of me today.

That unending rotating dance of the wrist looked lazier than ever.

It didn't show any indication that it would change before sinking back into the darkness of yet another Sunday evening.

It was pointless to continue, so I went back home.

This time you saw me before I saw you.

"Are you hungry?"

It surprised me.

Truthfully I wasn't even sure if I was hungry yet, but you grabbed my hand before I could decide.

You walked me in and it was all in front of me.

For the first time in a long time, I felt warm.

I love sweet things.

There were two huge stacks of pancakes with every choice of topping I could imagine.

But you were the only thing I wanted.

It was a blur, but I just wanted to touch you and make sure you knew how I felt.

I knew I couldn't tell you what I was going through.

If I messed you up with the cold there'd be nobody else left.

I hugged you for a long time and we both pretended I didn't cry.

Eventually, I realized I'd become hungrier than I'd ever been.

It was time to eat, so I did.

It took at least a quarter of my stack to notice you were just standing there looking at me.

"Aren't you hungry?"

Then you disappeared behind my pancakes.

For a while, you made my Sundays easier.

Well, not easier.

They were just as difficult as ever, but now I had something to look forward to.

I tried my best to stay warm, but I still woke up cold again by Monday.

I don't like to admit it, but every breakfast warmed me up a little less.

I wanted to sleep in with you more than ever.

You kept me going, but it only made me sad.

One Sunday I was on another cold, tired journey home.

My friend waved me on from within the spotlight of every single streetlight.

There were more than enough along the way.

Once I got inside something felt different.

Today you weren't the only one here.

My friend stood behind you.

I was so scared that it was hard for me to finish my pancakes.

My friend didn't follow us into our room, but it felt like I was out of time.

How long until you were cold too?

For the next six days everywhere outside of our bedroom was my friend's domain.

Then we hit Sunday.

I woke up so early my eyes needed time to adjust to the darkness.

As I stared across the room at where the curtains should be they transformed into a painfully familiar shape.

I didn't care about the rest of the house, but this was too far.

My friend faded away as I got up to open the curtains.

It was too early to hope for the light, and it was too late to hope that my warmth would return.

I peeked outside and saw a faint grey glow in the sky painting the silhouette of my friend standing in the rain.

You were the only one left.

I knew you'd understand, but I couldn't have you make breakfast for someone who wasn't coming back.

Before it got bright enough to see you I left my last word where the light would be.

"Goodbye."

I walked outside on a mission to end this once and for all.

It was a good thing I was immune to the cold.

My friend didn't seem to wanna play around today.

But as soft as the rain was it didn't let up.

My clothes were soaked by the time we stopped at the usual road.

This was where some of our greatest staring contests had taken place.

Having a final battle in the rain seemed fitting.

I still wasn't sure what I had to do.

I only ever got close when my friend let me.

But we always ended up here.

Maybe my friend was trying to tell me I could never have what I wanted.

It was sad, but it was almost a relief.

If there was no hope I didn't have to keep trying so hard.

It could all end here.

A sound cut through the haze beside me.

I turned towards it, and you were there.

You didn't understand I was trying to save you.

So I ran away into the darkness.

When my eyes opened my friend was gone.

But you were the only one I wanted.

I wanted to touch you and make sure you knew everything was okay.

You were a little far away, so I dragged myself over to where you were resting.

It hurt, but we both pretended I didn't cry.

Once my hand was in yours I started to feel warm again.

I thought I saw your eyes open, but I was so tired.

Finally, we could sleep in together.