She was literally binging on sleep. Twelve hours, sometimes fourteen. She could get in bed and close her eyes and no matter how many times she promised, alarm calls only came as a slight interruption. She would walk in a dream state across the room and turn it off, gliding expertly through her own space in the dark. This room had been hers forever. She knew the location of everything, all the right places to step. So when she wound up back over by the light switch, debating flipping it on, or just crawling back in, she almost always chose the later. Darkness she knew how to hide in. Darkness meant you were supposed to be asleep, or at least supposed to be alone. Day time frightened her in the summer. How could anyone possibly fill all those empty hours. She watched a lot of movies. So many, in fact, that her own life started to become unreal. All her friends and family became characters, she herself the protagonist. When things made her upset, she just took a step back and the directors took over. If you don’t make your own decisions, eventually someone else will chose for you. She forced herself to say yes to all the invitations, to drag her weak and unconditioned body into someone else’s situations. It was another way of killing time, a way no one really questioned. Teenagers hang out with their friends. Mostly, they either drank or smoked weed. Drinking made her sick, but smoking-well that had sort of become her new thing. Highness in itself posed a challenge. By definition, being high made you awkward and clumsy, but it also made you calm. She liked the calm. She always felt so much more centered, like her focus of the world extended beyond her tiny life. She thought about society and normalcy and how strange it was that there really was a correct way to do absolutely everything. Washing your hands for exactly twenty seconds. Folding your shirts with the sleeves tucked under. Most people did things the fast way, hardly paying attention to their actions. But she wanted to take the time, to perfect every detail. The charmed quality her life had fascinated her. How could so many people be enslaved or abused or starving, while all the world asked of her was to not get arrested. Her responsibilities were so minimal. You’d think she could get out of bed and enjoy all the free time her beautiful life had to offer. But no. She couldn’t do it. The fact was she was lonely and bored and terrified of being lost. Lost in a generation filled with distractions upon distractions to keep anyone from truly examining the quality of their own existence. No one cared about polyphasic sleep or self actualization or even having meaningful conversations. No one except her and a bunch of wack jobs and weirdos as her parents would say. They didn’t want her to be an independent thinker. Her mom would ship her off to rehab faster than you could marijuana if she ever discovered how much fucking weed her daughter smoked on a daily basis. Over Christmas break, in a flash of bravery, she had gotten the most incredible tattoo. It was a window overlooking a lake scene, the purples and mauves of night sky recreated on the back of her neck. She had a hard time explaining the meaning behind it, just because so many people thought the concept too odd to grasp. It was meant to signify leaving through the window. Crawling quietly outside alone to that calming space and no one would even notice. Her parents didn’t know about the tattoo. She wore her hair down every day to cover it, to keep her life aligned in the manner she had become accustomed too. And honestly, although her parents would have cringed at a butterfly on her hip, or a rose on her ankle, they would have gotten over it. But a fucking half open window with an empty lake-well that was just bizarre.

maybe it was just the dark that I was afraid of maybe it had nothing to do with lack of motivation or commitment or a fear of drowning in too much time it could have just been the environment the physical lack of brightness producing a natural human response when the world is dark, we sleep there is no point in opening our eyes when shutting existence out for a while always felt so comforting but i want to be a special girl i want to be the only one awake a strange creature thriving in a secret world of her own i imagine writings, texts, hundreds and thousands of all the right words i could learn a new language i could read about movements, watch idealistic documentaries all on my own time with no one awake to break the spell and yet, i struggle getting out of bed to silence the alarm, freezing in the still air, there is nothing in me that sees the point why should i need so much time when everyone else was content? why did i have to pretend i was invincible, that all the normal human weaknesses did not thrive inside my blood no, in the night, the only thing i could truly feel was desire and that was simply for sleep

one morning she woke up believing in love and the next she woke up holding the ashes a fire once burned here, terrifying and beautiful it painted her world in the darkest crimson red orange heat wavy outlines and steam and smoke until all of a sudden she only shivered and cold and darkness swept over everything so that all the lightness seemed beyond gone, almost as though the very concept of sight was a part of her dream at first she felt desecrated, like an entire battlefield of slain men had replaced her soul she couldn't move or speak every time she tried to think, her mind froze coldness from the lost drenched her skin and bones twirled a nest in her hair and just sat she tried very hard to fight the feeling, pretending she was not shivering behind her smile wishing that the heat and passion she saw on movies and real life still belonged to her and sometimes, when she became most careless most caught up in the fabrications of her friends lives she was able to forget all about the fire forget that there had ever been a time of light and warmth and safety and that really she was a good girl and she would be alright without it but then came the nights where all her memories would swell and drone like a swarm of bees inside her brain and she cried out loud hysterical sobs just to try and fall inside but no matter how hurt she was and how much she missed the fire he remained entirely indifferent for a year this went on the girl lived a pretend life of forced smiles and mysterious sadness while the fire had let himself burn down into something that couldn't warm even the smallest most pathetic creature, not even someone as scared and desperate as the girl and then one day, the girl finally realized she had to make a decision she was just so tired of sobbing, so tired of living for something that no longer existed she had to start a new stage of her life that embraced the cold and darkness, that was free of needing something else at first it was really terrifying she had always counted on her thoughts of the past to keep her safe when she felt lonely now she could no longer allow herself to feel the dull ache of regret dwelling in her bones many times, she wanted to go back to dreaming but some self preservation instinct stopped her and through that time she learned something very important about herself :even more than she wanted the fire back to comfort her, she truly just wanted to be happy and so she dug down into the cavern of her soul and cleared away those dying soldiers to reveal a clean field of grass, fresh from a new season she planted flowers to bring color, blue violet pops of yellow, bursting from the thriving ground she organized her bedroom so everything had its place she thought more about how lucky she was to have such a loving family and less about what other people thought of her slowly but surely, she built a new life for herself, until finally all the coldness and dark was once again removed except this time, the warmth and the light were not from an outside source not from someone who could break their promises, who could burn out and disappear no, this time the fire came from inside her, and she finally had a solid place to stand on she had transformed a broken heart into a thing of love and capacity it was only now, when she could take a step back and look at all she accomplished that she realized she was very close to happy

tiredness it sits on top of my eyes like a fog, making the world seem obscure it's a feeling i could do without, but for now i need it for now it is my evidence, my substantial proof of motivation what we have here is not a normal teenage girl see this one thinks she's worth saving this one doesn't want to be forgotten maybe if i save up enough interesting facts, i can make them replace some of the hollowness in my head all the cavernous unused space allows the same concepts to swirl around, over and over, with no solutions to make them disappear for years i have been dwelling on regret and loss, allowing old stale memories to taint the freshness of a new day everyone has some sort of ultimate truth about themselves locked away inside the subconscious these are the things you can;t admit, ideas that have flickered across your mind but never stopped to land i look very hard to understand the people who have let me into their lives and because of this, i sometimes notice things i probably shouldn't i don't know my own ultimate truth, but i have seen the way the concept works i watch movies to learn about society the way we interact, our relationships strike me as something uniquely fascinating who we attach ourselves to and why and how is almost as important as who we are alone

no matter how much time passes, i just can't seem to lose the trace of you you're everywhere my memories my present infiltrating everything all my new experiences interpreted with a glimmer of your cynicism every little comment gets inside my head i forget which words were mine, are mine and which ones came from you i question everything that once locked me safe in my perfect charmed life my heart is bleeding out of control i never knew it was possible to contain this much defeat for so long you'd think it would morph somehow, evaporate into something lighter, less cumbersome the problem is i know the right answer it just comes at too high a cost we were beautiful and young and perfectly in love no matter the other facts, i have to keep repeating that one i can't let you mar my memories can't let the sting of your coolness in response to my hysteria come anymore as a surprise we will always love each other in a distant sense that requires no more than a worded commitment no matter how worked up i get, i can't seem to make you move for you, the book is closed we had a run but now we have too many miles better to just turn back we're both so locked in our own paces this can't be done together we need some me in here fuck all that shit about team work i need to get on the defensive