My mind feels like it's unraveling at the edges... My mind feels like it's unraveling at the edges... My mind feels like it's unraveling at the edges...
The office walls keep closing in... The office walls keep closing in... The office walls keep closing in...
Maybe if I organize everything perfectly... Maybe if I organize everything perfectly... Maybe if I organize everything perfectly...
Every time my phone buzzes I think it's him but it never is and I hate that I still hope it might be even after everything he said and did and I keep drafting messages I'll never send because what's the point of telling someone they broke you when they already knew that's what they were doing and sometimes I scroll through our old photos at 2AM even though it feels like looking at strangers now and I wonder if he ever looks at them too or if he's already replaced all our memories
The neighbors must hear me crying at night through these paper-thin walls and I'm sure they talk about the crazy lady in 4B who stays up all night pacing and rearranging furniture because sometimes moving things around makes me feel like I have control over something anything even though I know I'm probably just making more noise and adding to their gossip but I can't seem to stop because lying still means thinking and thinking means remembering and remembering means falling apart again
Sometimes I sit in my car for hours after work because I can't face going inside to the emptiness and I watch other people living their lives through lit windows wondering how they do it how they keep going without feeling like they're drowning in air and sometimes I catch myself making up stories about their lives just to feel less alone like maybe that old man in 2A is secretly a retired spy and the teenager next door isn't really practicing drums she's sending morse code signals to aliens
The shadows on my ceiling are starting to look like faces... The shadows on my ceiling are starting to look like faces... The shadows on my ceiling are starting to look like faces...
I keep checking the locks over and over... I keep checking the locks over and over...
Everyone says I'm doing so well... Everyone says I'm doing so well...
The mirror shows someone I don't recognize anymore and I spend too long staring trying to find traces of whoever I used to be before everything went wrong but all I see is dark circles and forced smiles and sometimes I practice looking normal in the mirror like it's a performance I have to get right or everyone will finally see through the act and realize I'm just a collection of anxious thoughts wearing a person suit
Maybe if I work enough overtime I won't have to think about how everything is falling apart but the numbers on my screen start blurring together after hour twelve and my boss keeps saying I'm so dedicated but really I'm just hiding because at least here I can pretend I have a purpose even if that purpose is just moving cells around in spreadsheets until my eyes burn and my back aches and I can almost convince myself that exhaustion is the same thing as peace
I wonder if anyone would notice if I just disappeared sometimes I think about testing that theory just getting in my car and driving until I run out of gas or reasons to keep going and I've already planned it out in my head a hundred different ways but I can't even commit to that because what if I fail at disappearing just like I fail at everything else and have to come back and face everyone with another failure added to my collection of almost-escapes