Birds monotonously chirp and my window is scratched by a wind-rustled branch.
The room is lit a lake stone grey and the television static drones.
Staring up at the ceiling, my breath leaves me just seconds longer than usual
Always seconds longer
Panic hitches and I spring forward before catching my breath.
Always. Seconds. Longer
I'm a loop, a broken record losing breath and mental state.
A couple days pass and I'm still on repeat.
Have I eaten? Thoughts flicker and my phone buzzes. Do I need to use the bathroom?
My roommate asks if I'm alright; she's the kinder of the three
Will I ever be hungry again?...when is the last time I went outside or felt the mere ghost of sunlight through a sill on my skin?
My body is nothing but a shell now, not even harboring a soul
I can't feel though my heart and life desperately scream to
But every time I try to get up,
My weighted shadow keeps me down