Let Love In

At 7am, my eyelids gently rolled away from their sleeping position and the large, green block letters of Jessica's alarm clock glowed on the desk paralleling the bed. Though I'm usually up and showered by 7am, this was my first Saturday I had no obligations until 3pm. My mind coaxed my eyes back shut and I sank in and out of sleep for the next two and a half hours, losing touch with reality and slipping into complex stories that haunted my mind and caused me to wake up uneasily, disappointed in its realness despite it just being a dream.
By the time I finally folded the sheets away from my legs and placed my socked feet on the carpet, it was after 9:30. I brushed my teeth and followed Jessica through the house, trying to rub my eyes back into place. My left had been smashed into the pillowcase as I lay on my side. Even with fresh breath, I felt gross. I put on my shoes and coat and slowly glided across the icy sidewalks back to Moore. A lady was standing at the corner with her dog on a leash. The dog tried to get in the road. The lady slipped on the ice and fell, leash still in hand. I turned back and saw it happened and felt bad for her.
My head ached and I stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water and expensive shampoo would make me feel beautiful again. My face wash burned, drying out my cheeks and turning them a blushing pink. I ran the razor over my legs (I shouldn't bother; I just wear jeans all the time, but smooth legs makes me more confident) and came too close to the bone at my ankle. I saw the nick several seconds before I felt the sting of warm water and soap rushing into it. I held it beneath the water for a minute, hoping it would clot. It didn't, and as soon as I turned off the water, I rushed for a piece of toilet paper to avoid creating a biohazard all over the tiled floor.
I should be studying for my Spanish final this afternoon. I was supposed to take staff pictures of STATEments at 3pm, but the icy roads postponed us. Getting my picture taken always feels silly. I don't know how to pose, just smile. My electric blanket is calling out my name, beckoning me to join it for an hour or two. Instead, I turn up the volume on my speakers and the Goo Goo Dolls are in my room, putting melody to the advice I've resisted for too long. "Let love in." I promise I'll take a nap for just an hour if I can focus on studying the rest of the evening.
My laundry sits clean in its basket, waiting to be put away before it gets too wrinkly. The banana perched on my microwave is curved inward, sleeping between a jar of crunchy reduced-fat Skippy and a yellow-red apple.
As for me, I'm searching for myself between my two-month to-do list and full pages of notebook paper, journals from every day this semester as instructed by my creative nonfiction instructor. I remain silent, not without words but without a sure way of saying them. I reluctantly rely on my eyes and my smile to convey that there's more to me than what's on the surface, hoping someone will notice something more, like the brilliance of a quiet person.