LITERARY|Right Where I Should Be

Right Where I Should Be

A non-fic vignette

by Ivan Justine

Entering the house one night as I held onto the door handle—twisting it clockwise with a tired grasp due to a long and tiring day, with sweat trickling down my neck and weary arms that desired some rest. I walked across the hall with my feet almost failing to step forward every single time; head held high with my mouth gasping for air. I fell on the couch with a thud, finally able to feel something soft as the leather-bound foam swelled upward around my thigh. My arms and feet fell asleep as my eyes were dozing off due to fatigue. I was there, in such a depressing sight, seemingly lifeless—tired and burned out; exhausted, depleted, but nonetheless, conscious.

Across the couch where I was laid, I saw the man who promised; he was supposed to be with me for the entire day. With a tired voice, I swore at him violently under my breath—putting blame, pointing fingers; placing a stare that was filled with disappointment, anger, disdain. Few minutes later, I became calm. Realizing such a mistake, I apologized with a tear from the side of my eye—tracing a river, parting the red sea that is my cheek. With a tired voice I mumbled slowly, “I’m sorry. I forgot. I forgot that you’re human.” That evening ended with my voice faded as I finally shut everything out of sight. It was a day of defeat and a night of realizations on repeat; a reminder of the nature of the only man that I trust—that even heroes may fail you at the most crucial of times.

That night, I was there; right where I should be—in front of a mirror across the couch; where I talked to myself and dozed off to sleep.