Three-quarters past midnight. Lights out. Roommates asleep. Body immobilized. Spirit restless. Anxiety percolated from my bed where tears were once shed. Laying siege to my body, my elbows begin to tense, and my knees begin to ache. Perturbed, I begin twitching to ease the discomfort in my joints. This has happened before. It’s a bodily mind game. Just. Get. Up. I pop out of bed to beat anxiety before its grip becomes too strong, mosey my way to my laptop, and being to write.

As ideas fluttered through my mind, they raged too rampantly to consolidate. Words so vivid yet so barren. Two o’clock rolls by, and I realize this is not a task to be completed tonight. Taking a frustrated glance back at my bed, seems the anxiety had faded back, ready to wreak havoc another night.

Hovering over my bed. I still don’t feel ready. No, not yet. Let’s stay up a little longer. Anxiety won’t have time to manifest if exhaustion takes me first. It’s time to shower.

Remove my sweats, grab my towel, sneak out of my room, flip on the bathroom lights, and start the shower. As the waters warm, I look myself in the mirror to see nothing but a cold grimace.

“What’s wrong?”

I make my way to the shower and hop in. The droplets scorched my skin as I hastily reached for the knob, struggling to find equilibrium. Eureka! I have it. After moments of washing up, I pause. Soaking in the moment, words from an earlier conversation linger in my mind.

“Sean, you are my friend, and I still love you.”

The water runs across my freshly decontaminated skin. I sense the warmth of what is overcoming me. Apprehension washes down my thigh, through the crevices in my knee, over the hair on my leg, and onto the shower floor. Watching these streams of fear and shame spiral down the drain, love begins to penetrate into my veins.

“Sean, you are my friend, and I still love you.”

The words resonate within my heart once more, and my stony face begins to crack a faint grin.

“Sean, you are my son, and I still love you.”

My suppressed grin turns to rapturous smile, fighting winds of joy within my lungs.

“Sean, you are my son, and I still love you.”

The winds of joy blow through my cheeks, and laughter takes over. Smothering my face with my trembling hands, tears of joy stream down my face. I have seen it! There it is! The very segment of life I have been scrounging to find for so long has been right in front of me. How could I be so foolish? I finally understood. I finally understand.

“I. Still. Love. You.”

I turned off the shower, grabbed my scissors, and cut it off.