Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star.
It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago.
Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more.
Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.
Shadows of swaying leaves pour through my car window and bounce along the seats. I fidget with the Lucky Strikes carton. Push it up, down, up again, flip it over, flip it back. Sometimes I get this feeling that if I don't do it correctly something terrible might happen. I scoff at myself, What is going to happen? My biggest nightmare already became reality. I nudge the carton again anyway.
I've been sitting in my car each morning since it happened. Every day I watch the lady who's parked next to me wrangle her little wiggly children into the van. She squeezes carefully between our cars to get into the driver's seat. I made sure to park further away today. When they pull away I roll the window down to smoke. I throw back a 5 Hour Energy and a RedBull on my empty stomach. "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" by The Platters playing in my headphones.
It all starts crashing down when work ends. I'll take my medication late so the buzzing in my brain distracts me. I lie on the floor. I watch the room go dark as the sun goes down. In a moment of weakness I called, it went unanswered. I cycle through my emails and texts over and over. Who am I waiting to hear from-- and why? I have to trick myself into falling asleep. My dreams startle me awake at 4AM.
I don't like this routine.
I don't know how to exist in my life now.
