Itís 8AM and my mind has been constantly teetering on the edge of dreams and unrest.
Itís 8AM and my eyelids shutter closed to shield my eyes from the might of day, only to blearily open again.
Itís 8AM and Iíve stayed awake for many nights, watching the sunlight bleed through so-called ďblackoutĒ curtains.
Iíve witnessed the cycles for over a month now, and yet I have seen no sunrise.
I lock myself inside of these walls as my inner conflict begins to swell and stack itís walls just as highóno higher.
For the first time in my life the extroverted are just as fearful as I when it comes to human contact.
When the human race decides to shut itís doors I can feel myself recoiling further...almost as if Iím traversing the passages of time in order to meet my past self. A past self whom is under the deceitful guise of an old friend. Trying to convince this friend that it is, in fact, okay to speak without trembling garners a similar result of trying to hold a conversation with the overhead fan, who is OBVIOUSLY just whirring away and trying to do itís job. If only things were as simple as others make them out to be. If only I could quell my racing thoughts and let them ebb away with the flow of the oceans that crash in my head-but they are far too violent-far too violent to take something...so fragile...out to sea.
Itís 9AM and I just want to breathe. I want to breathe without what feels like the earth trying to reclaim my body...as it crushes my chest with the weight of the world. As if this anxiety is pulling me into an early grave.
Itís 9:23AM and I just hope Iíll grow the most beautiful flowers.
Flowers the color of the sunrise.
Only then will I sleep.