But I wanted to function without being sick. And the exhaustion did not bring anything but waking nightmares.
So yes, meds. And one dream remembered.
Salt in my my eyes, my nose, and my lungs as I open my mouth to scream. I scramble, half swimming, but cannot find the way upward because there is no sun, and I am too scared to dead man's float.
In this darkness, I hear a quiet voice, cold as the waters I find myself in.
Who said I needed you?
And then the darkness of my room, television flickering and the sounds of an infomercial eventually registering as words.
I take a deep breath, wondering who or what had rejected me. Perhaps my friends. Perhaps myself. Perhaps God. Or perhaps my demons.
I am not sure how to tell the voices apart anymore.
add a comment | others by Miranda