Things move on their own.

My math homework jumps from my backpack to the table and I don’t remember carrying it.

I blink and switch rooms,

Open my eyes somewhere else.

Items appear in my hands without me realizing.

The numbers sing a lullaby and the words scratch my skin,

My headphones choke the air from my lungs and my clothes hurt my ears,

Voices blur my vision and I feel

so…

so…

d

i

z

z

y

I can’t breathe,

The world is spinning,

I’m rocking back and forth and I don’t know why.

Maybe I’m just hungry;

I haven’t eaten anything in… a while?

Maybe I’m just cold,

Maybe I’m just dehydrated,

Maybe I’m just tired.

“Maybe I’m just depressed.”

_ _ “Maybe I’m already dead.” I’ve forgotten my name.

I’ve forgotten what day it is.

I’ve forgotten who needs me and who hates me,

Who wouldn’t care and who would cry,

Who loves me and why.

I should be doing… something.

But what’s the point?

Why bother,

Why not just sit here and let reality slip through my fingers like sand?

If my mind wanders far enough, will I wake up somewhere better?

How long would it take without food and water and sleep and warmth for me to wither away and die?