You look like shit.
After very nearly jumping out of my skin, I glanced around my bathroom. My life was in absolute order, I knew where everything and everyone was at all times. It was the only way I could keep things straight. I ran through my mental list quickly: I wasn’t expecting anyone, all the doors were still locked from the night before, the TV was still turned off and facing the wall in the closet where I had left it days ago. So who the fuck was interrupting my completely controlled morning by criticizing my appearance?
I stared at myself in the mirror, scrutinizing every inch. Sure, I had looked better. Maybe I was looking a little pale, and sure those dark circles were a little more pronounced than they had been, but it would all go back to normal if I could just get some sleep—
Absolute shit.
It was my mirror. Or maybe my reflection, or my subconscious or some shit. Well, fuck you, was my first response. It was quickly followed by, shit. I’m talking to a fucking mirror. I stared at my face, not quite meeting my own eyes in my reflection, because that shit always creeped me out. The only people who looked themselves in the eye were people in movies, giving themselves pep talks or preparing to do something completely insane. I didn’t want to admit to either of those, so I always avoided eye contact. I just wanted to figure out if I was talking to myself, or if my mirror was really that judgmental.
More like honest, my mirror put in thoughtfully. Well, great. I did the math in my head. It had been almost exactly 100 hours since I had last slept. That was fine. I walked to the kitchen to make some coffee. Maybe I would sleep later. I had class in an hour, but with the day off work I could come home and get some sleep. Maybe bring the tv back out of the closet, if it behaved itself.
I’m cutting you off.
Great. Now my coffee pot thought he was smarter than me.
Look here, pal, I commanded in the firmest tone I could muster, considering I was talking to a fucking coffee pot. I paid good money for you. I pay good money for the coffee grounds I’m about to shove in your hole, and I even pay for the water to fill you and the electricity to make you run. You’re going to have to show me some goddamn respect. As it turned out, my coffee pot already had me beat. I was out of coffee. I wondered idly when I had even made the last of it, wondered again if I was completely losing my mind, and decided to just leave. Get some air, clear my head, have time for a less judgy cup of coffee before my class started.
You’re not going anywhere.
My front door, acting guardian. Piece of shit. My coffee pot may have outsmarted me, I was going to be damned if I was beaten by a piece of wood.
You’re not going anywhere.
It was right. The thing wouldn’t budge. My hand could hardly grip the handle, and even then I couldn’t make it turn. I kicked it, banged on it, and remembered my parents telling me to get a basic tool set. I guess they wanted me to be prepared for something like this. Not that it mattered much. Like I knew how to take off a door knob. I gave the door a final kick before walking away.
I paced through my apartment, ignoring the snide comments of my dirty laundry and my unwashed dishes. I’ll deal with you tomorrow, I thought. I wondered what tomorrow really meant anymore. When I was young, I hated tomorrow because it never came. It was always today. I grew out of that, obviously, but since my insomnia had started I was wondering if my child self wasn’t right all along. It was like one very long day. Usually it was broken up by going through the paces of a normal day, but today I was evidently on house arrest. Literally.
Douche, I said under my breath as I walked past the front door again, thinking of what valuable things I had that I would be willing to trade for a good old fashioned fire axe to teach that door a lesson. I went back to wandering, mostly aimlessly, until I walked back to the bathroom. Might as well shower, it would at least take up some time.
You’re never going to leave. You’ve completely holed yourself up. You didn’t want company. You didn’t want to hear anything but yourself, and now you’ve gotten your wish. Complete solitude. The real question is, what on Earth are you going to do now?
My mirror again. We’d come full circle. I turned on the hot water and stared at my reflection. I broke my rule and made eye contact. If there was ever a time for a pep talk, this was it.
The bathroom was a disaster. The water had overflowed the shallow shower stall, and mixed with the blood on the floor. The shards of mirror threw light around the room like a macabre disco ball. My body, almost entirely bled out, lay in a crumpled heap, one of the larger glass shards still held in my limp hand.
I looked like shit.
—
Credits to: Amerimacabre
No comments:
Post a Comment