The Feeling of Bliss | Teen Ink

The Feeling of Bliss

November 20, 2013
By GusSorola SILVER, Defiance, Ohio
GusSorola SILVER, Defiance, Ohio
6 articles 0 photos 1 comment

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Gus Sorola


The brilliant rays of the half risen Saturday sun cascade through my window, hitting my seemingly dead body lying in a field of blue sheets, under a puffed up green blanket, my head rests on a pillow the most comfortable slice of cloud in the world. My body does not want to leave; however, it must. This Saturday was a rare Saturday when nothing has to be done but only what I want. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed still wrapped up in my blanket, not wanting to face the cold nip of the fall morning.

As I walk out of my room, I grab some clothes out of my dresser, not caring about fashion. All the clothes I choose, a pair of boxers, an old t-shirt, and sweat pants, are for pure comfort. Then I leave the blankets and all the clothes except for the boxers on the futon, where I will probably be spending the rest of the day, and make my way to the bathroom. The bathroom floor, hard and cold like a rock sitting in a cold mountain stream with cold, clear water running over it day after day, hour after hour, is startling compared to the warm soft carpet, soaked in the sunlight streaming though the windows of the house. I stager into the shower and pull the curtain, that puts a greenish hue to the light. The water is warm like a hug from a friend about to leave on a trip, but like the hug of the friend, I know it won’t last forever. I clean myself up and leave the warmth of the shower. The towel that I use gladly drinks the once warm water that’s now chilling my body.

I walk into the warm and quiet living room where I get dressed while the rest of the house begins to awake similarly to me, reluctant at first then beginning to embrace the day given to them. I sit on the futon, carefully avoid the cold, black steel arms until I have wrapped up in my blanket, and say my good mornings to the rest of my family. The final step I take to get ready on this Saturday of Saturdays is to open up the matte black rectangle of pure joy, sitting on the coffee table.

A familiar chip tune begins to play, and colors stimulate every inch of my eyes. Time feels as if it speeds around me the movements of my family begin to blur. Time seems to jump from being eight o’clock to noon. I decide I need to get something to eat as my stomach loudly assaults me with its gurgles and roars. Getting up from the warm nest-like blanket that has been with me for the day, I walk into the kitchen, which is filled with seemingly endless possibilities for lunch. As I am standing there in the kitchen of endless possibilities, I see out of the corner of my eye a familiar package that I know will not disappoint the beast that lives inside of my stomach: instant ramen noodles, the food seemingly gifted to me by the gods of food themselves. As the ritualistic preparation of my lunch begins, I roughly measure out the iron-laden water, which rushes in a white blur from the faucet, into my pot. Silver packets that were once lying with the block of dehydrated yellow noodles hold all of the spices needed to flavor the food of the gods are emptied into the pot of the water, being heated on the coils of the stovetop. Finally, the most important element is added to the solution: the block of yellow, almost golden, noodles that will go from being a hard jagged block to smooth strand of noodles that will cascade down into my stomach and calm the raging beast. As the noodles finish their feverous boil, they are put into a bowl that emits steam like a ghost that is disappearing into the sunlight. I return to my nest of a blanket with my bowl of gold and begin to watch a movie.
The ramen has run dry, and the credits are rolling; however, it is around two o’clock, and my eyes begin to sag as my mind slips into the darkness of sleep. I wake again at 8 o’clock and enjoy some time with the bright personalities of my family. As the day starts to wind to a close, we all enjoy a movie and return to the fields of dreams we call beds. We begin to go to sleep one by one. As the stars come out, and the sun returns to the other side of the world, where someone else’s perfect day is about to begin. All the events of today might just seem like those of any old day, but it is more than a day; it’s that feeling that come with this day. Bliss, a pure and perfect joy, comes to mind when thinking about it, and isn’t that what humans are searching for?



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