by marmaladescreams

When I wake up the air is thick and I feel a pressure against my whole body. Moving is arduous as if I’m at the bottom of the ocean. Slowly, I push myself to each singular act: open your eyes; sit up; concentrate on not lying back down.

Eventually I step out the door.

Outside, for every step I take, I have to keep on concentrating on not lying down. I have to keep on concentrating to not give over. As I sit on a bench, sheltered from the wind, I feel a sort of magnetic pull towards the dirty cement beneath my feet. I want to crawl off the bench and lie here on the spot. I want to curl myself together, close my eyes and wait to disappear. Because I’m convinced that I will disappear, even though I know this isn’t true. For it is nothing more than wishful thinking.