I'm tired and I can't chase them

I wake up at 3:13 in the morning, gasping and clawing for air, my fingers scrabbling against this boulder on my chest, scratching my skin in the attempts to gain purchase, trying, desperately, to get it off! It doesn't want to move, but finally, my fingers, cracked and bleeding, leverage it off of the hole in my chest and onto the floor where it steams, hissing against the cold tile.

Chest heaving, lungs eagerly grasping for air, pulling in strands of precious, life giving oxygen, I swing my legs off my bed, sitting up, hair clinging to my sweaty forehead. I'm panting from the effort, the hollow space in my chest where it was sitting ringing with my wheezing breaths.

The lies steaming on the floor regard me for a second, and when I manage to pull myself towards them in a half hearted attempt to get. them. out! they scatter, slithering across the room, darting up the walls, hiding in this dark, unfamiliar room.

They blink at me from the shadows, making the darkness darker, whispering their false truths at me that I am nothing, incapable, alone alone alone ALONE!

I'm tired and I can't chase them. The emptiness inside whistling, the fringes of myself waving in the haunting wind. Their words begin to bounce around the emptiness, echoing until they seem louder than before.

As I lay back down, closing my eyes, curling up under my blanket to try to sleep, one by one the lies, moving in quick spurts and darts, thinking themselves so clever, slowly come back to my empty chest and settle back in.

The weight of them makes it hard to breathe as they crush my lungs. I close my eyes, cross my arms, try to ignore them, secretly relieved their back.

Compared to the eerie echo of the emptiness, the questioning tune that whistled through the hole left behind, at least their weight is familiar and oddly comforting. No action is required of me when I choose to believe lies over truth.


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