• 7:30 A.M. starts the routine. I drag my sorry self out of bed, neglect to bathe, and search my floor for the same pair of jeans I’ve worn for a week. I look to my closet and see a mirage of shirts ranging in color, matching in design, all of which have been seen and over used. I stumble downstairs to a welcoming, “Good morning” from my mother. I rub my eyes. I pour myself some coffee and I head out the door. I sit in my car for a minute, allowing my mind to catch up with himself. I pick my soundtrack and I drive blindly until I reach my destination. I sit there until I feel compelled to move. Not much compels me to move lately. I move and zone out. I’m back in my car. I pick my soundtrack and I drive blindly until I reach my destination. I enter through the same door every day. I’m greeted with a welcoming, “How was your day?” from my mother. I rub my eyes. I retreat upstairs. I sit there until I feel compelled to move. Not much compels me to move lately. I pick my soundtrack. I zone out. 2:00 A.M. I lie wide-eyed in my bed. I recollect on the day’s events. All the stupid shit I did to make myself look like a fool. All of the conversations I had. All of the conversations I didn’t. “Tomorrow’s a brand new day.” I’ll keep telling myself that. I’ll keep trying to believe that. Zone out. Alarm screams. 7:30 A.M. starts the routine.

• i like this a lot.

  therapeuticsmileon July 30, 2010   Link

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