But I'm so tired. So I'm outside smoking... the background noise (a cycle of bird sounds) is being swallowed by the immense stillness and quiet of the room. Small lights of faint snowflakes, puple star decorative lights and a colorful constellation on the ceiling.
My head is a bubbly sea of black. Then I think, these tangled thoughts and I try to pull them in the black but they keep surfacing.
My ankles itch, my stomach is growling... I'm hot... I'm cold. I'm a body of goo... melting into the mattress...
Mourn... that's what my friend told me to do... the person you loved is dead.
My stomach has been clenching and its been a cycle of guilt and hopelessness. It doesn't help that the balmy weather is reminding me... that as Autumn creeps in... everything is dying.
My baby doesn't look like a baby anymore... she's a little person. My cheeks are sinking in, my breasts are shriveling back into my rib cage. I bite my tongue a lot. I stifle tears and my throat is dry.
I'm fine. I keep moving. Time pulls me like I'm an astronaut gravitating toward some blackhole. For some reason... I haven't been sucked in yet. I keep floating.
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