The crimson lines on my digital alarm clock keep shifting and changing, growing later and later into the night. The white ceiling brings me no answers to my thoughts that race back and forth in my head, feeding off the smallest bit of anxiety that has developed from processing things for too long.
It's 2 AM and my eyes just won't shut. My upper lids are fighting a battle with my lower lids, and they refuse to meet each other into a tight squeezing hug. The bags under my eyes that I had are now layering themselves in thicker and market blankets to keep themselves warm and cozy because they wouldn't be going anywhere.
It's 3 AM now, and my body feels really tight and restless. I want to move around or do something, but my energy level is running on fumes. My cat seems to be sleeping just fine, and I wish that I could be like her and simply curl up and dream for the rest of the night, but I'm starting to hear whispers around me that make no sense and my thoughts are retreating to the dark parts of my brain where suicide and self-harm sleep.
Just go to sleep, I tell myself.
My brain is replying with a playful no.
I wish I could turn the thoughts off and find solace in my bed, but the voices in my head are telling me that I'm going to mess something up tomorrow and ruin the day. They tell me that I'm not good enough to be with Aaron and I agree with them silently, blaming myself for his disappearance in my heart.
My heart's responding in quick knocks against my chest, begging for me to open it up so that it can escape to sanity, but I'm not sure where sanity is, and I'm scared that if my heart leaves me, it won't want to come back home. I wouldn't want to come back home to a broken shell either, though.
YOU ARE READING
I Was She
Thơ ca[Complete] A series of poems and short stories tell the sad tale of a breakup, of rejection, and of finding new love. From losing her soulmate to learning to see the world from a different perspective, M.A. Rivers writes down every last feeling that...
