Tuesday - May 18th, 2010
I lie naked on the smooth, cold, concrete floor a few feet from the bed. Arms resting against my sides, legs crossed slightly at the ankles. Burning, raw eyes open wide staring straight ahead. The tears have stopped, but my head continues to pound with each heartbeat. "4:03" dances on the spackled ceiling in fluorescent blue, projecting up from the alarm clock. The rest of the bedroom fades to black, and the only sound is the fan spinning lazily at the foot of the bed.
Why me? My thoughts begin to cycle again, spiraling out of control. I'm trapped within my own frozen body, arguing with the darkness. You deserve this. You're nothing but trash - worthless. I take a deep breath and accept the thought as truth. Why keep fighting? You've lost. The chills begin from the base of my neck and spill down my spine, through my legs and down to my toes like a wave of ice water. You're a failure.
I begin shaking violently. The tears are back with a vengeance. It's the first I've moved in the past hour. I manage to find enough strength to roll on my side, curl into a ball, and hug my knees tightly to my chest as I sob - the buckle from the leather belt around my neck clinks on the ground with each convulsion. The dry, harsh croaks erupting from my throat with each wail sound unfamiliar, almost inhuman. I'm a failure. I've failed in life - I've even failed this.
"4:52" flickers above me. The weeping subsides and my breathing is regular again. The icy wave has receded and I'm beginning to feel my bodily warmth return as I continue to lay huddled on my side, clutching my legs. I'm coming back to reality. I quickly pull the belt from around my neck and throw it across the room, hitting my dresser. I push myself up off the ground and stand up. Bad idea. My head throbs and the lights behind my eyes spin and dance vividly. A few painful moments pass as I catch my balance, then I grab some briefs from the clean pile on the floor and slide them on. I climb into bed, pulling the comforter over me. It's just a dream. It's just a dream. This never happened. It's time to sleep.
Oh, but you know it happened. And you backed out. Because, ah, you're a failure.
Shut up.
YOU ARE READING
Balance.
General FictionA semi-fictional story based on my own struggles with depression, bipolar II, severe general/social anxiety, juvenile diabetes, and homosexuality. Let me know what you think!