no air
I remember walking in the morning. It was early, the roads were empty and the world hadn’t started yet. The wind was a slow frozen movement, the currents flowed so slowly. I watched the the pale pink leaves slowly get blown off the cherry blossoms I walk past every day. I watched the single petal slowly hit the ground and the wind lift it back up again and carry it further next to me. I watched as a mother tried to get her children in the car for school.
Everything was slowly waking up.
It was slow, crisp and the movement of it all was all so peaceful, but chaotic.
Nothing at all mattered.
recently I’ve been taking more time to myself. I work, come home, eat, sleep, wake up and do it all over again. On my days off I barely know what to do with myself. I just sleep it off. When I’m not sleeping I wish I was. Ill sit in my room while my friends dance about in the living room. I watch the seconds get somewhat slower as I’m counting a long as they turn into minutes. I don’t have much to say for myself, I feel like this is as good as its going to get. I don’t know how I became so dull. I feel like a pencil that the lead just keeps snapping on. I build myself up, I sharpen my edges, and I just crumble to nothing because the weight is too much.
I’ve been thinking about alternatives. Maybe if I chose to stick in, with my job, school, relationships, maybe I’d be looking at a completely different person in the mirror, I don’t understand if this is the best scenario I was given, but it isn’t a scenario I want to wake up in every day. I want to wake up and be happy. Preferably have someone to call that I don’t have to catch up with, but someone that already knows because they see it every day, but someone I don’t feel bad for having to explain how sorry I am that I cant get myself out of bed today. That I’m sorry that I’m getting sick again and I don’t have an excuse this time, I just have to much going on. It feels like the only time I’m happy is the five-minute-grace before my alarm wakes me up properly.
I stopped cleaning my room, I suppose that is the catalyst. I wouldn’t want to spend time in m room because it was always a mess, so I started sleeping on the couch. I stopped washing the dishes because they kept piling up. I stopped cooking because it was less dishes on the pile to clean up. I stopped eating because it was too much mess and I cant get myself out of bed to go to the door for the food. I even stopped smoking, I don’t feel like doing that anymore. I stopped coming out of my room. I stopped talking. My friends all ask me why I haven’t spoken to them in weeks and I’ve lost so many people apart from the people that are constantly around me. I don’t want to go home because theres people. I don’t want to work because I talk all day. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to be around anyone.
I don’t want to be alone.
I wish I could see that I was doing this to myself. By the time I finally saw what was happening, it was 6pm, I just got home and I noticed the mirror and finally saw myself.
My skin is sinking into my face. My bones are sticking out again. I look tired. Exhausted. I imagine what this feels like, if I had to explain the feeling to somebody. I imagine that the closest representation to how I feel is, opening your eyes in a room with no windows and no light. Pitch black and suffocated, I feel like I’m staring into nothing, I cant see anything and its so silent and the more I breathe, the more oxygen I use up of the room with no air.
I am alone. I did this.
It’s too late to turn this around.
