Perpetually in a daze.
Walking through the thick clouds that have occupied my gaze.
Now, seeing her from the outside.
Her eyes are empty.
She’s so far in now that her mind and her eyes are playing tricks on her.
She scratches and scratches and pulls at her hair. She’s still numb. She’s always numb.
Just one more bump, just one more line.
It’s only 5 a.m.
the bag is empty. She searches and empties drawers only to come out empty handed.
She’s falling now. It’s hard, it’s hard to fall. It hurts to fall. She’s scared to fall.
She checks the freezer, the fridge, the liquor cabinet.
It’s 7 a.m.
She makes a phone call. No answer. Panic sets in. Then sadness. Unrelenting sadness. She’s alone. All alone. Not even the sun wants to greet her.
Eyes glazed over she rests her head on her pillow. Her thoughts are scrambled and her heart is pounding.
She breathes in deep to try and gain control, but there is no control to be gained for she lost it long ago.
Long ago when she took that first bump. When she closed that bedroom door and started keeping secrets from the ones she loved the most.
She’s lost. She’s lost in the clouds, in the thick clouds that she’s created to surround her. To hide her, to subdue her. To kill her.