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warnings : foul language , mentions of death . . .
一 • 🥮 • 一
As Y/N stared at herself in the mirror, she could only pity those who would have to lay eyes on her. Messy hair, sticking out at 90 degree angles, prominent dark eye bags, tired looking skin, dead looking expression, and a voice that sounded like they smoked since the dinosaurs went extinct.
"God, I look like sh*t..." She muttered, exhaling a long sigh. She ran her hands through her hair, letting her head loll to the side, staring endlessly at the wooden floor of her apartment. A bitter taste of sleep meds clung to her tongue, forming a sensation she hated.
The lethargic feeling would never go away, no matter how much sleep she tried to get. She would take sick leaves, vacation trips, therapy, endless doctors, and yet, the emotion she hated so much would chain her to the pathetic decision she made.
Sluggishly opening her medicine cabinet, she tried to ignore the vast amount of pills laying on the dusty shelves. Some were open, some were closed. Some bottles hadn't even been looked upon, and others had a singular pill left in their stock. Some weren't even sold anymore. Many hadn't been touched for over a year.
She took a hairbrush, careful not to knock over any bottles. The plastic object was also dusty, as the last attempt she tried to look decent was years ago. Now, she just went out as she was. It was too time consuming to wake up early and slap foundation on her skin. The after affects of rising an hour earlier than usual took a large toll on her health.
Whenever she would go out, people would stare at her, either in disgust or horror. It wasn't everyday you saw someone that looked like they hadn't slept for a year. She didn't judge them. She too would stare at someone who looked like a caveman.
Harshly tugging at her hair, she attempted to rid it out the knots, but failed miserably. Today, she had yanked too hard, and took out a minuscule chunk of her skin, along with some blood and hair.
She set down the hairbrush, staring at the red liquid splattered on the floor, and on the countertop.
"I'll have to clean that up later..." She mumbled, trailing off into a loud yawn.
Lazily straightening her tie, she smoothed the wrinkles out on her dress suit, giving it a disgusted look. For the last couple nights, she had slept with her work clothes on, just because she was so tired. Hopefully nobody noticed.
Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she groped around the side table for her leather briefcase, letting out a small noise of victory when she felt the slick material.
Yawning again, she covered it with the palm of her hand, rolling her eyes. "God, I f*cking hate work." She muttered lowly, internally cursing the idea of lifting a finger to help others.
