Salty Eyes

It’s nearly two in the morning. I have my dressing gown on over my clothes. An hour ago I tried to spell enthusiasm and couldn’t. (I just had auto correct fix it for me now.) So I typed in ‘curb your…’ into Google and what I needed appeared. It was copied and pasted and transferred to the place that lets me watch stuff for free. Only tonight it wasn’t working.

So I went without my free HBO show. I went without my possibly maybe smile, and ate Cheerios and a banana, little bigger than my middle finger (the only things my stomach could handle) to the sound of deep dreamers in the next room. I stared dumbly at my computer screen, as if my endless scrolling on Facebook would give me answers to questions I haven’t even fully figured out yet.Googling quotes by Anne Sexton made me feel somewhat better the other night. I’m not sure it’s going to work this morning. I’ve used countless wads of kitchen roll and nearly a full roll of toilet paper on the top half of my face. There’s so much salt in and around my eyes that the entire area stings. It’s like some kind of ‘after death’ preserving process has already begun on my eyeballs, but I’m still here and breathing. Sort of.

I should take my meds, because I’ll need the next dose in a few hours, and if I take them too close together I’ll feel drowsy, like I’ve eaten far too much white bread with butter and honey and sipped down too big a mug of warm milk and sugar. I’m going to do it now. Take them with a glug from the bathroom tap, then burrow under the clean clothes I should have put away days ago, and hide until the sun reaches under the curtains to remind me it’s time to try again.

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