You wake up.
You’re forgetting something but it doesn’t come to your mind immediately. It’s a thick fog, but there’s no chance of it letting up. You get out of bed.
Your feet touch matted carpet. You should vacuum today. You get to the mirror in your room and see your greasy hair that you keep putting off from washing. Today. You’re going to shower today, because that’s what you told yourself yesterday. Where’s your phone – oh, it’s in your hand. It’s like a limb to you. Can’t lose it.
You move to the bathroom. Every step seems a little easier than the last. You stumble into the dark before fumbling for the light switch. In that 40 watt lighting you see your face. It’s gaunt. You look like shit. You feel like it too, but this sight is the usual. No point in trying to change it now, you’ve got things to do and if you don’t get going the panic is going to start setting in. There’s deadlines, you know. And if you don’t hurry, they’re going to get tired of your excuses.
You wonder who “they” are. You shake your head. No point in doing that. You’ve always had a competitive streak.
You get dressed in jeans that don’t stink and find some clean underwear in the laundry you haven’t folded yet. You should fold that. If it sits there too long, it becomes dirty again. Then you wash it. You know it’s illogical but there’s a thrum in you. Dirty. Filthy. Wash it. Wash it again. Is it clean? Clean enough. You get dressed and throw on a shirt that’s passable for something society can accept. That “they” can accept.
Where’s your phone? On the couch. Grab it. You have to go. You are going to be late.
You are an entity piloting this flesh suit, even if the skin fits too tight. Your responses are automated. There is nothing personable about the words you are saying. They’re natural, they’re deadpan. I can work on that. I like that. I hate that. You parrot those words like the robot getting fed simple commands like “Hello World!”. Hello world.
You tune back into the channel from the commercial break. You’re back home. When did you get home? Where’s your phone? It’s dark outside, what the hell did you do today? They’re going to think of you as lazy. They’re winning. They always win. Your phone is in your pocket.
The kitchen is a mess. You should clean it. You go in your fridge, something rotting but you’ll get to cleaning it at some point. You grab a canned coffee. It’s dark out but you want that coffee.
You go to your room. You sit on your bed in your jeans, avoiding the matted carpet. You lost your top somewhere on the journey from the kitchen to your room as a marker of where you were. You throw your jeans on the floor and sit in your underwear. You stare in the mirror.
You look the same. This is the same. This is normal.
You’re going to shower tomorrow.
You lay back on the bed. Close your eyes. Let go.
You wake up.
