Two more days.

I wonder why, and how, I'm still here. This year has been so incredibly difficult. I would be safe if I hadn't lied but when five different doctors are interrogating you for hours on end you just want them to leave you alone. I just shake my head and stare at my feet while making plans. Ironic.

The answer is blowing in the wind.

I find myself standing on my windowsill some days just hoping there's an answer out there, maybe down there. With the slip of a single toe on the peeling paint or the twitch of a finger, holding my balance, clutched on the window panes, I fall back onto my bed. The warm air surrounds me like arms, keeping me from moving toward the cold.
I go through fits when I get rid of anything that reminds me of the past, only because I know I will never be that happy again. I throw out childhood memories, send old friends away one way trains to the darkest depths of my mind, and cut my hair off so I can pretend I'm a completely new person. I wish forgetting could be easier but thoughts stick with you stronger than you expect so the littlest words can bring them flying back into your conscious mind. You'll never sleep again.