I can physically feel monotony—the way it settles, abrupt, coming from nowhere, always surprising. I try to change my routine, only to find myself staring numbly as the world passes me by. I go out, only to talk to no one and smile awkwardly at the sales people asking how I am. Do I look okay? If I do, then I’m glad. It was difficult to leave the house today.
The noises in my head are too loud to be drowned out by anything except that one song I can’t seem to stop listening to. Uplifting it may be, but it only drags me deeper into this hole I call my own. Where dullness and misery are my only companions. During the worst of these times, when I’m sitting before my dingy computer screen with a cup of coffee and too much to do, but not enough motivation to do—anything, I wish life would end begin again. I want to breathe, I miss the feeling of doing so. I miss the feeling of contentment, of satisfaction, of ease… of home.
It’s cold. So, so cold. But the heater’s on and it’s sunny outside, so I can only suppose that it must be my imagination playing tricks on me again. A very palpable trick. My blankets too far away though—two steps too far. Just out of reach. I wish I could stretch and never have to leave this room. I wish time would stand still for a day—let me catch up with the rest of the world.
And I have one more wish. A bit less selfish than the rest. Simpler, too. Once you receive this, please tell me everything’s alright. That you’re still there.
I know you are and I know it will be, but… I could really stand to hear it.