nostalgia | ✓

the blues

blue is the only thing on my mind most days. though, maybe today it's because it's late and i'm stuck not being able to sleep because of the snow.

tears are threatening to spill, my brown eyes glistening from the small night light i have in my bedroom.

i reach up to run my hand through my hair, staying still for a few minutes before pulling a few strands out one by one. i don’t even notice i’m doing it, even though my fingertips are now tingling like i am touching one of those stupid plasma balls.

i’m busy staring at my blank wall, listening to the silence. you of course would think that the silence is peaceful, but i can't help thinking that it's always so unbearably loud. like nails on a chalkboard.

my senses are playing against me today. i can feel a bitter tang in my mouth that's burrowing into my dry sandpaper taste buds. when was the last time i drank water?

my head jerks to the side quickly and makes me pull harder at my hair, more strands falling beside me onto my white cotton bedsheets.

my tears begin to fall, and i get up rapidly trying to scream for anyone—anyone who could help. but blue smoke fills my lungs, making each breath oh so painful to breathe in. i step forward, then each one after that becomes more painful than the last, like i was stepping on blue plastic thumb tacks and shards of glass. i fall, and all i see is blue. my mind is focused on blue, and blue alone.