By Derek Lumagui
Dizzy, drowsy, dumbfounded.
I feel the wind picking up speed. In my room? The fan must be on.
But it’s so cold. I’m shaking. But I can’t get up.
My ears are watery. Why does my chest hurt this way?
I want to cry out in pain, but it’s inexplicable.
The shadows in the corners mash and smear against the outlines of light.
I hate myself, what the FUCK am I doing, someone please help me
Who do I even call to? Would it even help? I shake my head, the room stops spinning.
The loud rustling in my ears finally stops as I get up from my bed.
I need to get my shit together. I need to straighten myself out.
The thoughts whizz past my head, scenarios popping in and out of existence.
As the world spins again, I reach for my escape.
A new show is out? I’m intrigued. I think I recognize these actors.
Suddenly the world is spinning down. It gets smaller and smaller.
Tears secrete, the plot thickens.
I’m immersed in a new world, a world in a world of a world.
The time of grief has ended; the room comes to a halt.
I feel safe here.
Comments