Encyclopedia Of Solitude

Chapter Three: I'm just tired.

Gasping.

Inhale, exhale.

So tired. Usually, I'm not tired because I eat fruit, which you digest faster, giving you energy faster. Random life hack. 

But suddenly, I was gasping. It was exhausting to stand. I reached for my phone, hoping it hadn't died since I had last used it. Barely reaching it, I hit the power button. It was almost out of battery life. I jammed letters into the phone, watching the battery percentage drop.

I just got out of the shower and I can barely move I just got tired all of the sudden and I'm shaking just texting you this.

Then I dropped my phone on my pillow and let myself be limp. I had expected her to respond right away, but  my mom called me down for dinner before she could.

"Clean up your sister's milk, God Christine, how many times do I have to tell you?!" She exclaimed. 

"This is the first time!" I responded. "And why should I? It's her spill!"

"She's cleaning her room. Jeez, quit being so lazy and ungrateful! You're so selfish, God!" She shouted. My eyes got hot and I dug my teeth into my lip. Be strong, Chris. I mentally scolded myself. Quit being so weak. So I knelt down and cleaned it up, feeling even more tired than before.

--- 

When I returned to my bedroom, I found that Camille had texted me back.

OMG! You should tell your mom!

I rolled my eyes. Sure, I could imagine her response now.

You're so lazy and pathetic! She'd say. Quit trying to get out of work. You're such a pathetic city girl.

So I bit my lip and lied- I already did. She didn't believe me.

She responded directly after I hit the "send" button. It was as if the "send" button was her "response" button.

You should call 911! This could be serious!

I rolled my eyes again. As if I wanted that attention- and my mom would be pissed. Plus, she was being a little too concerned. 

It's probably just a one-time thing- it doesn't matter.

You sure? Okay...

And then I brought forth the effort to read. 

Reading was my escape from reality- sometimes a better one than my own.

But usually it's worse- people with abusive or no parents, or such great parents I find myself hoping I'll be that good of a parent. But I won't- I'll probably be dead by then, and even if I lived until then, I refuse to pass my genes on to and innocent child. I don't want them to have to deal with the depression, ugliness, and anxiety. Not to mention insomnia. 

At first, it was just my parents' genes making me sleep terribly- waking up two times a night, once if I was lucky. Pile the anxiety on, and now it's four. Then the depression, moving it to five or six. And add on not being able to fall asleep, my thoughts keep me up.

I used to wake up at 11:00 PM (My mother dearest makes me go to bed at 8:00 PM) And read until 5:25 AM, when I usually wake up. My mother yells at me about that too. She wants me to wake up a six because I'm "So loud" and I "wake her up." Who is she calling selfish? She yells at me for having a clean room, as well. She says I'm too "anal." I can't help it- I enjoy having an organized room. It's known to help you focus. My room used to be a disaster- which is known to stimulate creativity. But being organized suits me better. I like being able to find a pair of matching sock without seeing there are holes in them, because I don't even have to search for pairs anymore. 

But I'm not really looking for pairs of clothes anymore- at first it wasto my heart. But it's hard to find a pair to something you don't have.