C. Not Burning on the Inside

03Aug08

[HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD!;* (yesterday)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DR. H!;* (today)]

Mr. Therapy Man, I need to ask you: how can I live on?*

And so she woke up after four hours of sleep with that song stuck in her head. She’s falling. Falling into a pit. An eternal pit. And only she can pick herself up, flip the pit around, and make sure she falls out of it rather than into it. She sighs and turns over to get out of bed. She’s been spending most of her days in bed. Might as well stay in there today.

She picks up her book and starts to read, ignoring the fact that she has two finals the next day. She has no sense of time. Her brother peeks in to ask if she wants anything to eat. She shakes her head. When was the last time she ate anyway? She shrugs and closes her book. She drags the laptop over her legs. Should she?

She opens it up. And signs into her multiple accounts. The only person she feels like talking to isn’t online. Her status says busy. Busy doing what? She’s got to be busy doing something. Not really. Says who? She can be busy doing nothing. But she isn’t really doing nothing. She’s thinking. Overwhelmingly. Is that a word? She can’t remember.

Does it surprise her? No. She’s already forgotten how to count. She’s already managed to dismiss the fact that a red light means stop. Next on the list? She won’t even mention it. Last time she felt this way was Summer `07. A book got her through that. Nothing will get her through this. Not even knowing what’s next.

What if what’s next is worse? She wouldn’t want to live anymore. She’s already living for one person only. She’s already lived enough for everyone else. Wow. What is she thinking? What is it? She’s driving herself over the wall. Blasphemous. She giggles. She really is insane.

Nostalgic. A song plays that reminds her of way too many memories. They are flooding her head. And in turn, the thoughts in her head flood her eyes. She needs to leave her bed. Or change its sheets. Maybe all the negativity would shed itself away once the sheets are gone. No?

She doesn’t only need to get out of her bed. She needs to leave. Soon. It would do her some good. It has to. And she wishes when she comes back, everything will be less hurtful. People would have moved on and dealt with their issues. And then maybe she can smile genuinely on the inside as well as the outside. She wipes her tears.

She sighs. She sits up on her bed and glances at the mirror to her left. She needs to deal with her hair. It’s big from the tossing and turning before the four hours of sleep she managed. Her eyeliner is smuged at well, adding a horrifying effect to the dark circles under her eyes. Her collar bones are starting to protrude. When was the last time she ate, again? Oh, wait. She couldn’t remeber that the first time. She reaches out to the elastic band on her bedside table and ties her hair back. She attempted brushing it the day before, but she gave up. As long as her bangs are okay, she’ll look fine. Or will she?

She would love to shatter the mirror until she feels better. She knows that’ll happen some time soon. But she also hopes it happens sooner than her soon. She wants to be able to live like her name implies. Her brother peeks in again. Does she want anything to eat? No, just water. Can she have a bottle? Two big ones? Sure.

Maybe the water will cleanse her of all of this.. Or maybe she’ll look back at it and sing, I remember when I lost my mind. There was something so pleasant about that phase.**

*Mr. Therapy Man – Justin Nozuka

**Crazy – Gnarles Barkley

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