Shit is getting real way too fast and the nights are long, way too long for your liking. In those painstakingly long hours you breathe uncertainty and loneliness seeps, bleeds into your bones. Instead of lighting on fire, your bones become even colder. You try to make sense of a tragedy yet to come, a tragedy you cannot fathom but then realize you know less and less every time you think. “Future” seems like a foreign concept. You struggle to understand how you can feel so much and so little all at the same time. It makes your head hurt so you stop analyzing and stare at the ceiling of a white room. Outside, the white blanket of snow covered everything you see and more. You just want everything to halt, to lie still; you just want to stop running around like crazy yourself.
Everyone always talks about kicking it up a notch, pedal to the metal, shifting the gear forward, going 120%, going above and beyond but no one realizes how tired you are. The “check engine” sign keeps flashing for what seems like thousands of miles already. But you are always going forward because you have no choice. Always searching, always waiting and… “Almost” is the word etched into your paper white skin and fragile bones, you feel it everywhere. It is weaved intricately into everything you do, say and feel. Nothing ever is enough and you grow weary of constantly being not good enough, not up to par, not giving it your all. You want peace and stillness and laziness but you think about how much needs to be done and you just exhale violently into the darkness of the room. You used to like being busy, now you’re just not so sure anymore.
You close your eyes and fall asleep to the sound of rain when there is none.
**********
You groan loudly into an empty room as you get out of bed, unhappy that you sleep far less than you should, than you physically can. You’re not sure you even know what month it is, the day of the week differs depending on the meetings you have, you can’t discern the days anymore otherwise. Your self-destructive tendencies thrive wildly. Every day is a blur of dark, dirty and muted colors but the world keeps on spinning. You stop paying attention to it entirely.
You try to pull through even though you see your cracked face and smile in the bathroom mirror on every break. You wonder if anyone notices how much your lips hurt and how cold and dead are your eyes. Probably not. Sometimes you do thank people for their ignorance.
**********
You ask her what is on her mind. She says nothing, just smiles sadly and walks away.
You wonder if something besides you is broken here, too.
**********
“I’m fine, just tired” your smile is as guilty as you. Nobody ever questions it and thank god, you don’t want to deal with it, better keep up the fake appearances of looking like you have all of your shit together. You put a cigarette between your teeth and purposely inhale too much and feel lightheaded, barely able to suppress a cough coming from your chapped lips. You brush it off and repeat the action again. You repeat it multiple times, again and again. You think about how some people can be dead while still being alive.
**********
You barely sleep, just think and overthink about everything going wrong. You spend your day vacantly staring through the window, listening to the same song on repeat for hours. You never really hear it.
It takes an immense amount of energy to get up and go, get ready, brace yourself. You don’t want to go, you just want to stay inside and forget about the world and its pretenses. Sleep in if possible, even though these words have lost their meaning for you, sleeping in is just being able to catch a little down time. But you know that this is not the way it goes. You lock the door and pretend that you don’t notice the dark clouds and the rain outside.
**********
The clock is ticking and time is melting away painfully. You open your mouth; you want to say something, anything. Casually tell her something funny, ask about her plans, anything. But you just quietly watch her leave and regret feels bitter on your tongue.
**********
You forget about how it’s seven in the morning. You forget about the possibility of dying. You forget about everything in the world. The world goes on, the day passes by as if nothing has happened.
**********
You sit at five in the morning, the darkness of the kitchen is slightly illuminated by the balcony and snowy white heaps outside. You don’t remember where you were, only now noticing a pool of water from your boots. You smoke a second cigarette in a row, bitterness in your lungs and bitterness from the coffee you’re drinking. Your head pulses violently and there’s a headache threatening to bloom but you just ignore it and continue staring at your hand, noticing a trickle of red. The world disappears altogether.
You’re left alone to pick up the pieces once again.
