*CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT*
Have you ever met someone that made falling feel like flying?
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Preview:
"Do you think, if you jumped from this roof - it'd feel like falling or flying?" I ask, keeping up with our theme of a...
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"Hey, I was just calling to see how you were?"
No that's dumb.
"Hey, I hope I'm not interrupting anything-"
Way too fucking formal, you sound like a twat.
"Hey, did you know that some turtles can breathe through their anus?"
Yeah Drew, just open with weird animal facts you fucking creep. Amazing idea.
"Oh for fuck sake I'm useless at this shit." I huff, staring down at my phone in my hand where I'm sitting on my bed; hovering my thumb over Harry's contact name.
I've been sitting here for the past twenty minutes just staring at his name in my phone; talking to myself like a mental patient over what I should say if he answers, finally giving in and caving to the fact I miss the sound of his voice.
He's been on my mind since I got home from my appointment five hours ago, no matter how much I tried to distract myself.
I finally showered and washed my hair, brushed my teeth and got into fresh clothes. I called the hospital and did my laundry.
It doesn't sound like much, but when you're weighted to the ground being crushed by your own mind those things feel impossible.
Unbearable even.
The smallest tasks of self care everyone takes for granted feel like the most daunting thing imaginable.
I cleaned the house, tried watching a movie, tried listening to music and nothing worked.
Even though my mother isn't here, there's still that heavy anxious atmosphere in the house that makes me want to crawl out of my own skin and whilst normally when I'm feeling like this, I seclude myself and lock myself away to suffer in silence; not burdening anyone.
This time I've got that ache deep in my gut for some kind of respite from it, some kind of comfort. A distraction.
I want to feel better.
I want to let someone else help me feel better.
I shove down that anxious self doubt as far as I can, sighing "Oh to hell with it."
Just before I press Harry's name I look to Gizmo on the end of my bed.
"Wish me luck."
He snorts in support, then wheezes out a breath that makes his jowls vibrate; staring at me with that same droopy dumb expression.
