When you’re not yourself in the morning, or practically every single passing second of the day, you lose losing yourself over and over. And just now my feet almost got tangled with an extension cord where the oven toaster’s power source is plugged — It might have fallen and it was my fault.
It could have. And it would provoke the world to collapse right on my back and break every little bone on spine. Every word that mom or father would utter by then would stab my spirit possibly killing it and I won’t have anything left for the rest of the semester. Hope would keep dripping off my body and the demons that I have long kept out of my head would come charging in. The frenzied demons would feast in the littlest light left in my mind and trash it all away. They would play on what’s left of the tiny pieces of happiness there and crumple, crush and destroy… every little reason that still keep me going.
They would summon the darkness and reel them in like enchanting melodies that would keep me seemingly dead or maybe hypnotized for long until everything that is real would emerge for a second and just die.
I have little hope now. The oven toaster might have fallen and it was my fault. And even if it didn’t it would still be.