i don't even know what time it is really my phone just says 2:17 but the numbers blur red and it might as well be 4 or 5 the house is so quiet it hums a low frequency that drills into my skull and makes my teeth ache i should be sleeping i know that but the thought of closing my eyes feels like a betrayal like if i drift off something will happen and i won't be ready for it even though i'm never really ready anyway am i the smell of stale urine and a hint of lavender air freshener that never really covers anything hangs heavy in the air a constant reminder that this is my life now a landscape of smells and sounds that are not my own i remember the first time i walked into his room after they sent him home from the hospital and it was like walking into a foreign country everything familiar but twisted the furniture rearranged the light different the air heavy with something i couldn't name then but i know now it's just a slow decay a slow forgetting i used to wake up to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of the morning news now it’s the rustle of sheets the soft groans that mean he’s stirring or the even softer silence that makes my heart leap into my throat because sometimes the silence is the worst sound of all the silence that means i have to check again to make sure he’s still breathing that he hasn’t somehow slipped away in the night while i was lost in the brief oblivion of sleep my own reflection in the dark screen of my phone startles me sometimes i barely recognize her the dark circles under her eyes the way her shoulders slump forward as if carrying an invisible weight the lines etched around her mouth from smiles that never quite reach her eyes or maybe they’re not smiles at all just grimaces of frustration i don't even know anymore what my face does when i'm alone the other day my brother called and said “how are things going” and i just stared at the phone for a long time trying to decide if i should tell him the truth or just lie and say “fine” like i always do i ended up saying “he’s had a rough week” and he mumbled something about being busy with work and then changed the subject to football i wanted to scream i wanted to throw the phone across the room i wanted to ask him if he even remembers our father's favorite team or if that memory has been outsourced to me too i trace the faint lines on my palm and wonder if they hold any clues to what my future looks like a tangled mess of responsibilities and forgotten dreams i used to imagine myself traveling seeing the world writing things that mattered now the furthest i travel is to the grocery store and the most important things i write are shopping lists and notes to myself reminding me to check his blood pressure or when his next doctor's appointment is sometimes i think about just leaving just walking out the door and never looking back but then i hear a whimper or a cough and i stop because who else is there who else would be here to make sure he’s fed to make sure he’s clean to make sure he’s not alone when the fear comes and he calls out for a mother who’s been gone for decades a name he still remembers when he can’t remember mine i feel this incredible rage bubbling up inside me a hot bitter taste in my mouth and it’s not just for my useless siblings or the doctors who give me platitudes about dignity and comfort it’s for myself for letting this happen for letting my life shrink to the size of this house to the size of his room for becoming this person i don’t even recognize someone who lives in the shadows of someone else’s fading light and i know it's not his fault i know that i do but sometimes when he looks at me with those blank eyes or when he lashes out in a moment of confusion i just want to shake him and say "don't you see what you're doing to me" but then the moment passes and he’s just this old man confused and afraid and i hate myself for even thinking it for even feeling this terrible resentment that coils around my heart like a snake squeezing tighter and tighter until i can barely breathe until i feel like i'm suffocating in plain sight and no one even notices