White Noise

My eyes burn; I haven’t been sleeping lately. But the sound of the rain on the roof soothes me. 

The alarm still goes off at the regular time, but I barely notice it anymore. It’s just another background noise that would be annoying if I were alert enough to focus on it. But I’m not, so it buzzes on, unhindered. It turns itself off after an hour. That’s why I bought it. 

I haven’t been to work in weeks. 

I sit on the couch watching the blank screen of my television. I stopped paying the cable bill last year because nothing on was more interesting then anything they offered. The lifelessness of the screen sucks me in.

But sometimes I watch the white noise. 

The only reason I open my front door anymore is my dog. I get her food delivered, and I bring it in at night when no one else is out to see me. I can feel them watching now, like a sunburn on my exposed skin. So I avoid people. It’s fine, really. I don’t need anyone. 

 Maybe the thunderstorm is in my head after all. I look out the window and the street is dry, and the dandelions still bear their fluff.

I could have sworn I heard the raindrops and thunder. 

---