Everyday I pick myself up from the mess of sheets and other things that do not belong on the bed and wish that Time would just eat me up. I count how many of my wounds have healed and how many new ones I got just from getting up.
I take a bath and stare into space right after. I know I will be late if I do not move faster and I will myself to do so… only because I don’t want to be in deeper trouble.
All my life, I have looked forward to this future. There was nothing in my past that could hold me back from moving forward. I had a horrible time growing-up and wished nothing but to move time faster.
And now, now that I am when I wanted to be, I find that I have lost myself. I feel like I have failed my younger self who wanted only escape. I want to go back and hug her and tell her that we are doomed.
Everyday I go back home. My feet trudging and sweeping dust inside. I say my thanks to all the Heavens who helped me get through another day of hell. I add more things that do not belong on the bed. I try to have decent conversation with people who matter to me but they blur out from my vision. I see myself drifting further from everyone and everything.
I count my scars and the raw wounds I have procured for the day. I do not even hide them anymore.
Is it Monday still? It does not matter anymore. Monday has the face of Tuesday. It has morphed into the face of Everyday.
When will everyday end?