Yes, another triumph for the hungry.
I haven’t felt like this in a while. Like the lights are always off, like the noise is always static, like the world is all my own sunken deep illusion. Insomnia; you’re just a figment, hallucination, never awake and never asleep. Chain reaction is continuous. Can’t sleep, can’t eat, being has never been so easy. White dry chipped off ceiling walls, I never sleep with my head straight up or I’ll feel anxious to peel it off. Thoughts can be useful, but all of mine are either insecure or pointless. When I do sleep I wake up and refrain to the same old day. Its quizzes in Bio, then bookwork, quick fake laughter with a friend, then dosing off in the middle of more bookwork…just one more review question I echo in my mind. When am I ever going to need to know this much about worms in daily life? Rub your head, whip your drool, and pull your hair from your face. This is all real, but all I see is shadows in a haze, words blurred. May I use the bathroom; I’ve been a good girl. The teacher says yes. The hallways look like stretched out, moving, long steps just to wash my face. Maybe not worth it. Fingers through hair, dust rubbed from eyes, delusional escalating with this food and sleep deprivation. Cough cough, wall close. Weak knees, going down. Hands held on a wall, head spinning in a white sealed teenage filthy dream of hallways, lockers, and shoes hitting the floor. Hard they thumped in ringing ears of just static. There’s a wall between the world’s sounds, and my head. I’m listening through, making out the words. There’s a window between the world’s view and my eyes. I’m seeing through but I can’t make up the people. These problems are fog and haze in my windows, static and bangs in my ears up against my walls. Not fair.
Hand to my head, bible next to my bed, I still fear the darkness of sleeping a life, and dreaming a lie. Breathe your breaths of smoke; sit on the porch of your glamorous pool side view, sun in the face of sexuality, discourteousness, and plain old wealthiest; all with a big shaded hat and sunglasses. When did I reach such wondrous heights of danger. With no caution signs or warning signs to stop me, no way to get caught and yet I find playgrounds and predominate language more familiar, more save, more me. Experimentation becomes habit, addictions, and lifestyle. Do I really want to open that door? Katie’s not stable enough for the adventure, but she’s too prissy to pass on that kind of opportunity. This is my golden ticket to everything that was ever said to be altering yet sinful. Cold laughs, cruel pranks and still I’m stuck in a risky dilemma. In the end I have to take it since Katie has the last say, and she’ll never take the save root, even if it means living a life on the edge. You see; sinful, painful, rough rock bottom is always scary and never familiar. I am the harmed and I am the harmer. In the darkest hazes I’ll still find shade. That's how in the thickest clouds I’ll still find dreams. In the loudest cries I’ll hear static; and in the worst storms I’ll be blind. I am the story; complain about every problem, and still I create every single one of them and know how to escape from all them too. Nothing’s changed, yet I don’t feel the same.