Greet The Sun.

I sit on the porch, the sun falling low into the prepossessing color scheme. The purple hid behind the devilish orange, as the red stroked up the rear. A blend of calm alluring energy gloating to the people, a level of beauty we will never be able to touch. The display is a tease from above, a hint from God that we are bound to the tedious tides of humanity. Wind whispers against my ear, a voice I can’t hear, but the words enter my mind as if spoken clear as day.

My dread snakes into my veins, the same sense of knowing it wasn’t the wind. It was my anxiety creeping once again into my every being. It is my worry, teasing me deeply with a caressing touch I cannot escape. The words clip around me, its hands wrapping around my neck in a tight embrace. My hands try to fight, but I feel nothing in front of me.

I gasp; my eyes shoot open, my hands sliding along the bedsheets I never left. The discomforting plain white bedroom, I lay disoriented in. My feet glide over the bed as I sludge to the mirror. My sunken eyes and elastic skin greet me with less than satisfactory gain. My hand slides roughly against my rubbery skin; the sunset still dangling beautifully, my position the only thing to change. I can’t remember the words, the way the wind spoke to me, but I know that it did. I heard it. I can hear her, the sweet soothing tune of worry brushes over me, and the walls breathe gently around me.

The static behind my eyes finally cleared into a waking haze, the blur seducing beautifully against my full vision. The shadows move, something I can’t pinpoint as the furniture moves within my peripheral vision. The mocking snickers of the dark tense inside me, though I’m home alone. The silence whispers into my brain, do more, be more, try harder. I’m not doing enough. The truth aches inside my bones as my feet guide me to the kitchen, the empty fridge sneers in disappointment. My stomach rumbles in toxic approval. My phone buzzes with notifications I can’t see, the device feeling hot in my palm. The chirping begins to growl, louder, sterner. People want pieces of my energy, but they give nothing in return.

Save them, give it to them, do not disappoint them. I drop my phone, the clattering ringing my mind to the object in front of me. I didn't feel myself walk to the couch; the hard cushions stiffen against the contact. The remote turns on the T.V, a silent exchange I would never understand. The screen buzzes; an array of visions I can't comprehend. I hear voices I can’t see its pulling me in. The words crawl under my skin, digging deeper, unresolved.

I gasp; my eyes shoot open, my hands sliding along the bedsheets I never left. The window sways against the wind. I thought I closed it, but maybe I dozed off before I had the chance. My feet hit the ground, and a groggy feeling whirls around me, suffocating my mind. I rub my hand through my hair, sighing as I watch the sunset in an enticing grasp. My mind starts to form as déjà vu sets in. I groan as I make my way to the bathroom; the cabinet above the sink rattles as the pills shake in happy tremors to be chosen. I ignore it, I need to ignore it. Starting the shower, the curtain blocks me from the real world. The thin white sheet separates me and my dulling hallucinations as the lights flicker.

The water grows hotter, scorching as my skin bubbles in response. I try to steer away, but the sensation feels so good on my numbing skin. At least I think it does. Then I hear her, the whisper again on the back of my neck, someone reaching out to me, colliding with my every being. I still can’t form the words, no matter how hard I try to focus against the burning droplets. I need to know what she's saying, I need her to know I hear her. My towel clings to my body as I brush my teeth, a second priority to my sizzling skin. I’m trying to replay the words, but it comes through like gibberish. My skin burns, though my mind tells me I enjoy it. My mind seems to think for me a lot these days. I wish I could take the reins but I'm afraid of what would happen to me if I did.

I take my time scaling the hall, and the slow creaking of my wooden floors' echoes through my ears. I am home alone, but the tension growing behind me is solid. I want to turn around, but that means facing something much scarier than I am ready to admit. It follows my footsteps as I descend the stairs; the television is off. That’s weird. I could have sworn- Maybe I couldn’t, it wouldn't be the first time I have made a mistake like that. I enter the kitchen, and the fridge smiles at me, full of nutrients, a greedy supply of food staring back at me, anticipating. I grab a pear heading to the porch, and the sun hovers politely in the sky. Something feels off, but I cannot move. The radiant glow of the falling sun hums peacefully above me. A sight I know I've seen many times before, I can’t escape it. I need to be free.

I gasp; my eyes shoot open, my hands sliding along the bedsheets I never left. That damned sun sends low rays through my curtains. I can’t understand the things I’m feeling. I need to understand. I need to be free from the grasp my mind has on me. Is it my mind? Is my mind the issue? I want to leave the bed, but I pause. My feet hesitate near the floor, a tear, a single tear, finds its way down my cheek. The purple hue of the sky translates into my bedroom, the reflection shining off my bare white walls. I think I'll stay in bed today. My mind could use the rest.

The moon relieves the sun of its shift. The dreamy, hazy glow peeking into my room. I survived the evening. A moment of weakness almost turned into a lifetime of struggle. I let my feet hit the floor as my mind lay quiet. There’s no one there, no. There’s nothing there. I let my feet guide me into the bathroom as my reflection finds my eyes before I can turn on the light. It flickers overhead, drawing my attention to it shortly. The reflection steadied as it continued to stare, my peripheral vision catching the motion before I could fully turn my head. My cabinet rattles: this can’t be it. I turn my head slowly, my reflection whispers something against the glass.

I gasp.