Saturday, December 7, 2019

Tumultuous Tendency

"In quickness, there is truth." - Ray Bradbury

Tick. Tock. I desperately glanced at the digital clock on my computer screen. One hour.

Time? Passed. 

Mind? Blank.

Paper? Empty.

Hotel? Trivago.

One hour. My cognition still hasn't functioning properly.

The cup of coffee hasn't been much of a help, nor has everything else. I seemed to be in a state of disarray, where my brain just straight up refused to cooperate, to think, to even perform the most basic analysis of things.

Sighing, I got up of the chair and headed towards the bed, only dizzy. I laid down, looking at the ceiling above, heartbeat going faster. Eyes closed, breathing going manual. Inhale. Exhale. Five seconds. One at a time.

Zero. Eighty. Zero. Dim lights. Eyes still closed, ears perked to the sound of a familiar tune. My phone ringtone. I stayed still, breathing in and out. Ten seconds and it was over.

"OK Google," I called out, followed by a bleeping sound, "Who called?"

Amber voice spoke out. No names were mentioned, but she spelled a sequence of number I recognized immediately. Eyelids still shut, I muttered, "Thanks."

I have a friend who was dear to me. She was dear to everyone, in fact, that I sometimes don't feel I hold a place that special in her heart. I personally think keeping tabs of people is exhausting, so for someone to invest their time and energy for me is beyond my understanding. She called me twice already. I wanted to pick up. I wish I could pick up.

But I don't want to hurt her. Not anymore.

I can't answer the question. I don't even know the answer.

"Are you okay?"

I wish I could say I'm not, because it's easier to actually be diagnosed clinically with something wrong, than spending your whole life treading between the line of sanity and its counterpart.
I wish I could say I am, because I don't need her to worry about me and that she's burdened enough with her problems.

I could pick up the phone and send the text.

"Sure, why?"

But I didn't.

Sighing, I got up of the bed and headed towards the desk, still dizzy.

Tick.

Tock.

In this room, only time runs. In circles.

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