Dec 29, 2015 01:59
At half past five in the morning, I crawled out of bed with burning eyes and anxious lungs. I made myself a cup of tea and a bowl of cereal and I settled in with my sketch book and TOP's "Regional At Best" playing through my headphones. At the kitchen table, my fingers ached from where I'd bit my nails down and picked at my cuticles until blood bubbled up to the surface. My cats weaved between my legs and meowed up at me, but all I did was ignore them. I sketched the teabag that I'd removed from my mug and shaded it in with drops of oolong because graphite wasn't cutting it. My mom joined me an hour later. We talked, and she didn't notice I'd drank an entire pot of coffee until she went to fill her own mug.
I went through my shift in a blurry trance, too far away from everyone to count it as proper interaction but too close to call it isolation. Stuck in between, dangling between two realities, stuck in the slow lane. I am below freezing and I can't feel my fingers. I just want to join the world of the living and pretend like I belong here. I'm sick of being alone at three in the morning when I can't fall asleep. I want to be awake enough in the afternoon to leave my house like a normal human being.
Lately, my brain has been red flashing lights and neon signs that flash "Emergency!" My eyelids are rebelling against me. My entire world is asleep and I have to watch. I am so fucked up right now.
writing,
the glitch