Queen of the Headphone Zombies

Repeat

It's Not Over // Daughtry

Zoe

I'm on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. It's a crap kind of déjà vu, not one that I would wish upon my worst enemy. Not even DF. Well, maybe on him. But the last time I felt like this, laying on this floor and surrounded by trash—although this time it's not two weeks of take out, it's one night of binge chocolate bars—I thought I was dying. Google assured me it was possible and damn if I didn't feel like my heart would stop beating. It was the most unbearable kind of pain, the kind that no medicine would resolve.

And yet, this time it's different. How is that possible? How can my heart be surviving this latest attack? I'm not worried about death by heart ache anymore. I know that I won't die from this. It is painful, it does hurt as much as any real pain I've ever felt, but instead of feeling morbid this time I feel just sort of empty. And that is a whole new worry. Holy crap, will this nothingness feeling ever go away? Or is this now my new norm? It was bad enough living with heart ache, at least chocolate sort of helped. But no amount of chocolate can fix how I feel right now.

I sit up and take stock of my surroundings. In one short night I've wrecked my room once again. Candy wrappers, cartons, and Halloween costumes litter the floor. Dragon Lady took pity on me and gave me half of Brat Supremo's trick or treat loot after I rejected her offer of rocky road ice cream. More time with her, alone, was not going to solve my problems. Brato moaned about sharing his candy, but Dragon Lady told him his teeth would rot and he wouldn't be able to pick food out of them with his fingers anymore. That shut him up.

Thank goodness there's no school today. There is no way I could face that shit show. Those two, the two people who destroyed what little faith I had left in mankind, together in the halls and in my face would be the last straw. I honestly don't think I could be held responsible for my actions. Honestly, I'm not sure what I will do when I spot Chelsea and he "who I refuse to name" together. I just hope to god I get mad and shout at them instead of getting hysterical and crying and running away. Nothing would be worse than to see them pitying me. Or laughing at me. And I wonder not for the first time if they have been doing that all along. Laughing at me as they see each other behind my back.

Part of me wants to hole up in my sanctuary and shut the world out for an undetermined amount of time. I've already shut my phone off after The-source-of-all-my-pain (I can't bring myself to use his name) tried to call and text nonstop for a few hours. I just don't have the energy to deal.

But I am strangely hungry. Normally I loose all desire for sustenance when in emotional turmoil. I'd rather starve then stuff my feelings like some people tend to. The only explanation I have for even this remote appetite is the fact that our gig video indeed went viral, twenty thousand views to be exact. That is if Dragon lady's morning greeting is to be believed.

"Twenty-K and counting Zoe!" She called as she passed by my door this morning, bright and early. That little declaration got my mind reeling with a mixture of thoughts. I felt so much excitement that our band might be taking off, getting recognition after an entire year of work, but also dread began to fill me up. If this band does take off, I would have to say goodbye to giving The-source-of-all-my-pain the kiss off. He's kind of in the band, so too bad so sad for me.

"Zoe, come have breakfast!" Dragon lady is once again cooking for me. I can smell the familiar bacon and pancakes. It must be some sort of breakup breakfast special that she's got going on. The last time she got this domestic was when DF left me heart broken.

I pull myself up and trudge to the door. There's no way I'm taking a look in the mirror. After we got home last night, I scrubbed the zombie face away but didn't bother brushing my hair. Zombie Nancy, my Halloween gig role, had a rat's nest, so morning-after Zoe is probably ten times worse.