Dear August

|Thirty-One|

It's been three days. I haven't gotten out of bed -with the exception of going to the bathroom- in three days. The lights remained off, the curtains shut tightly on the window, refusing to allow any sunlight into the room. My blankets remained pulled up to my neck despite the temperatures being above 90° outside.

I stared blankly at the wall in front of me, nothing on my mind, no emotions showing on my face.

My phone has gone off about 100 times since about two days ago, when my friends started getting suspicious about my disappearance. I've ignored all the calls and texts, despite them being constant.

Mom checks in on me every once in a while, leaving me sandwiches and burgers from fast food places. I'll take a few bites from them, but then throw the rest out as nothing interests me in these few days. Absolutely nothing.

Not food, not water, not my friends or boyfriend, or even photography. Nothing is the same. I've ignored this long enough. Why? I'm not sure.

Why I thought it was a good idea to just ignore the sadness, the loneliness that met me after August died I don't know. I don't know anything. Nothing matters to me anymore.

Two knocks rap on my door as it slowly creeks open.

"Honey?" Mom asks from the doorway. I shift my weight a little as a response. "I'm headed off to work. I'll see you tonight. Please eat something."

"Okay," I answer in almost a whisper.

"I love you very much."

"I love you too."

She closes the door softly and I can hear her shut the front door. I sit up in my bed and sigh. Damn bladder. I silently stand up and open my bedroom door and head for the bathroom.

My reflection in the mirror slightly catches me off guard. My blonde hair was in knots and frizzy everywhere from constantly being in bed. Under my brown eyes were dark circles of purple and pink, and they were red rimmed from all the crying.

But my appearance doesn't matter. Nothing matters.