BZZZZ,
BZZZZ,
BZZZZ,
I roll over to click off my 6:45 am alarm, and then roll back over.
My face buried in a mountain of blankets and pillows.
My sheet, comforter, and weighted blanket draped over my body.
I try with every nerve in my body to get back to sleep but the hamster in my mind doesn't stop running on it's squeaky wheels.
After minutes of staring into the abyss, I count in my head "5, 4, 3, 2, 1", then I jump up so that I can't fight it anymore.
With a flick of my finger the obnoxious light turns on.
I sit there wrapped in all of my blankets ,
and my point of view from my desk points right at the reflection of my face in the mirror.
I study and observe every flaw, crease, and dent on my face.
My eyes are puffy and the corners are glued with the crusts of my dried tears.
I see a glare off my cracked phone in my peripheral vision.
it reads a snap chat from one of my friends, and I look back at the mirror.
My hair is bundled up into a disaster of a bun,
still wet from my shower the night before.
I leave it be with no care in the world.
I keep my sweater and sweat pants on I wore through the night, not wanting to move to put on new clothes.
When I stand up to get down stairs I couldn't bare the weight on my legs.
I couldn't bare any thought in my mind.
I send a text to my mom letting her know I'm not going to school.
I crawl back into bed after another flick of a switch to set my eyes at ease from the blare of the light.
The post storm I'm in is a mix of not feeling,
fighting to feel,
and fighting to not feel.
Everything is a blur,
like I'm driving in the middle of a blizzard,
I have my high beams on,
but even with every last bit of help only time will wait out the storm.
YOU ARE READING
My Beautiful Ending
PoesiaInvolves poetry through everything in between the , Beautiful beginning, the rocky middle and the Beautiful ending of me. Warning! These may be triggering to some people as they do talk about trauma, depression, and many other things!
