your eyes blink open in bed. the tag on your shorts scratches against your lower back. your neck is stiff from sleeping on it the wrong way. your leg is tangled in the sheet. you have those little crusties in the corners of your eyes, which are rimmed in red, puffy, and tired.
this is life.
you shove the blankets away and stand up. you look down at your hairy legs and stained t-shirt and sigh heavily. you are exhausted. the nail polish on your toe nails is chipping away and the nail polish on your fingernails has long since faded, nothing more than a memory.
this is life.
you drag your feet into the kitchen, the floor is oppressively cold. you brew a cup of coffee. the coffee maker gurgles a half hearted “good morning” but you say nothing back. the coffee is hot in your mouth and singes your tongue. it’s bitter.
this is life.
you step into a freezing shower, the water is a shock as it hits your skin. it freezes your nerve endings and makes your whole body numb. you stare at yourself, bare and naked. you are frail and pale.
this is life.
your words are scattered around the house. they are jagged lines on paper, swirling cursive on the walls, post-it notes on the doors, footprints on the floor. they are worthless. they are everything. those twenty-six letters in their varying disarray mock you and control you.
this is life.
you are surrounded by walls that stare at you blankly. you slump in the middle of the hardwood floor, your knees pressed to your chest and your arms wrapped around your legs. these walls trap you. they hold you hostage and pester you with deafening silence.
this is life.
your fears surround you. they hold you hostage. they mockingly run their long, spindly fingers along your skin until you cringe. they float around with grimaces on their faces. they give you anxiety that sends shivers down your spine, makes your hands shake, makes your stomach churn.
this is life.
you are empty. you are skin and bones a brain and nothing else. someone scooped out your insides a long time ago, just like a carved pumpkin on halloween. you are hollow. you fly away in the breeze. you float along rain puddles and get caught in storm drains.
this is life.
your heart beats in your chest, steady, rhythmic. your lungs pump air in and out of your body. blood flows through your veins. your muscles relax and contract as you move. your bones keep you steady.
this is life.
you are alive. you are breathing. you have thoughts and emotions. you are capable of intelligent contemplation. you are capable of artistic value. you are capable of movement. you are not required to remain stagnant. you are constantly fluctuating.
this is life.
you are aware of the complex simplicity of your being. you are microscopically big. you are ginormously small. you are stupidly smart. you are excitingly dull. you are depressingly cheerful. you are notably unimportant and memorably forgotten. you are alone.
this is life.