It was heavy. Bearing the shackles that have been firmly placed around my ankles, the weight of the world behind them. Forced to live with God's great flood. Consuming tsunami’s plowing through my mind, into my skull, and budding my waterline. Too many feelings, too many worries, too much time. Dismal thoughts creased the corner of my eyes, leaving a wishful trail to the edge of my mouth before being sucked up by a stuttering gasp. 

Invisible chains, pulling my arms down and around my shivering frame. Spine curved in such a humpback it seems inhumanly possible. However, maybe that's it. I’m not human. I’m some disgusting disfigured slime molded to look human. Carved from rocky clay with rough fingers that held unhealed wounds that left sharp jagged lines. My heart an empty cavity of a soul, too sad, too useless, or unmotivated to possibly compare. Those thoughts soon leave, taking the backstage exit for a costume change to later come back far uglier and far meaner. 

I imagine looking over my shoulder, to the supposed angel that was required to lay on it with their shiny gold harp. It whispered unblemished dreams of disappearing. “We wouldn’t have to worry about homework or classes or passing or family or graduating or money or taxes or bills or housing or growing up. We will just be gone. Our mind finally a silent hyme instead of a scratching record player.” It whispered, words covered in honey-sweet dreams. That comforted me, like a large lazy cat sprawling across my shoulders and purring in my ear. 

The thoughts brought me out of my spiraling like a slowling carousel, the clock reading 2:38 am. My online classes ended nearly 12 hours previously but I hadn’t had the energy to move since. Feeling marginally better I stood up, legs shaky from disuse and deteriorating muscle, I don’t remember the last time I left the house. The skin wrapped around my bones felt like sandpaper and I knew someone would be able to pull a full bottle of oil from my hair, it’s not like I had the energy to shower though, the thought of drowning myself under the waterspout was far too tempting. In mild surprise I patted my cheek, they were dry. Turns out I couldn’t even cry right. Stuffing a small sniffle down, noting that my room smelt of nothing but the cold smog coming in through my window. Letting a small dry chuckle pass my lips, highlighting my parched throat, I stepped 2 feet to the left and dropped onto my bed with little ceremony. 

The sheets had already been pulled down and I think I’ve been in the same pj’s for the last 3 weeks at least. My head hits the pillows and I bite my lip harshly, trying to stop it from wobbling. What's the point of crying now if I can’t even cry when I’m actually feeling upset? I flipped a mental switch, feeling the metaphorical lights go out as I rolled over in bed, pulling up the covers. Scrolling till I found a random video on youtube, I watched my screen until it felt like my eyes were bleeding and someone had cracked open my skull and filled it with cotton. Checking my phone I sighed, 8:23am. A little part of me, no matter how much my head screamed it was larger than life, wanted to try and cry again, how has so much time passed? One of my classes that I should have logged into had already started. 

I’ll just tell them my wifi went out.