The Mechanics of Us

Chapter 12

At 7:00 AM, the high-pitched bing of my alarm pierces eardrums sending my whole body into a frenzy. My heart beats out of my chest, and I press my palm firmly against my rib cage to feel the subtle flares of my lungs. Air is entering my lungs, but they still feel empty. To settle myself and help catch my breath, I focus on the bare wall in front of me. I count to five forwards and then backward and repeat this until my thoughts and breathing slow. When I finally regain some stability, two thoughts remain running through my mind.

I need to get a painting or something to put up on that wall.

When did my alarm become so loud?

I fumble with my phone and check the alarm settings. It's in the lowest setting, but it sounded like it was on the highest and then connected to a speaker who also was set to the highest setting possible. What is going on?

It is too early to go down that rabbit hole, though, and I begrudgingly get out of bed. I make my way over to the windows with the curtains still drawn, and decide it is time to see what this day will be like. I pull back the curtains, and the day greets me with a punch to the face. The sun's rays are so intense my retinas burn, and my vision goes completely white. Instinctively my hands shade my eyes to shield them from the blinding light. My fingers separate partially, and razor beams of light eek their way between the gaps. I try to blink furiously in efforts to help my eyes adjust, and after minutes of doing this, they finally start to accept the light and correct themselves.

After that, near blinding and heart attack inducing the first ten minutes of my day, I take very cautious steps towards the bathroom. This time, I don't open the blinds in the bathroom all the way but crack them slightly. The light seems to illuminate every aspect of the toilet without disrupting my vision.

Once the room is relatively lit, I find the shower faucet and leaning over; I twist the knob and am greeted by a fine mist of chilled water. I let that run for a bit, and while I wait, I analyze myself in the mirror. In all honesty, I do not recognize who I am or who I had become. For some reason, my reflection seemed to be a stranger. The hair that tuffs in strange dramatic angles seem not to fit me, my eyes were not what I was used to seeing as they have lost their vibrancy and fierceness. I force a half-hearted smile on my face to see how that will compare, and not to my surprise; it didn't. Even when I did force smiles in the past, they still felt like my own. I knew the truth behind the false actions, but; this was something foreign to me. A plastic smile that is as fabricated as the rest of me.

However, even though the visible physical aspects seem to be fraudulent, internally, I am more myself than I ever have. Everything about me has felt like a facade, but the emotions have reversed in their familiarity. While the reflection in the mirror is what others see, everything I think or feel is the person I truly am.

I can recall moments in my life where I would get all gussied up, suit and tie, do my hair, put on makeup, the whole ordeal. I would prance around with such an arrogant glow, and I thrived in that spotlight. I thought I knew who I was, what my purpose was, I held myself on a pedestal, and I distanced myself from others that way. I knew others who did this; we all seemed to understand each other in that respect. We threw others under the bus, we climbed our way to the top with blood-soaked hands, and we had no sense of remorse or empathy.

A thick cloud of steam billowing out from under the shower curtain, and a thin layer of water is layering on the mirror draws me back from my thoughts. I break my concentration on the mirror and move towards the shower. My hand makes contact with the pellets of now steaming water, and instantly, I retract my scorched hand and hastily turn the shower faucet off quickly. The skin around the area that was exposed to the heated water begins to blister, the skin bubbling slightly, and pockets of clear fluid fill the sacks. Out of instinct, I turn the water back on, but this time is making sure it was cold and not hot. Timidly, I move, so the water lightly hits my body, and instantly I am soothed by the tumbling iced stream. A cold shower seems to provide a new form of comfort, but I can not dilly-dally more than I already have. My shower lasts ten minutes. Not a minute more, not a minute less.