What frustrates me so much is that this sickness taps on my windows on cold, stormy days, begging me not to sleep. It sits on my lap taunting me to caress its soft but stinging, midnight fur. In busy crowds, it whispers my name as i walk, telling me sugar-coated stories of how it made at least 5 souls drain out all the sadness inside of them in thick red in the last 4 hours it left me so i could finally close my eyes and sleep. But on days where i sleep longer and wake up waiting for its thick cloud to suffocate me, i then realize it’s sleeping longer than me. I start taking my steps faster and firmer than usual, eyes bright in excitement, and tie my hair up. I’m laughing louder and talking more, it hurts. On some days, i lay down and wait for it to pounce on my chest like a kitten playing with my collar bones. But i sleep longer again, and again, and again. Laughing louder, and louder, and louder. And i’m getting warmer, and warmer, and warmer. Looking up higher than before that i strain my neck seeing the sun in the middle of the sky, it hurts. There’s too many people coming up to me. My mouth hurts from smiling. I need the cold. My hair’s messy again. My eyes are too wild. It’s getting warmer, and warmer, and warmer.
Until i miss it.