An Unusual Morning.

I opened one of my brown eyes to see that morning had finally arrived. I opened both of my brown eyes to fully check it's a new day but I had the strangest of feelings. I woke up feeling that I shouldn't. I woke up smelling death all over the room. I told my mind to stop constantly reminding me that being here isn't the problem and that the problem might be me. I ordered my mind to stop playing that song I've been listening to for hours, unaware that it's even playing. I told my mind to stop causing profound aches to my chest, to stop making my body hurt. I ordered and ordered but it seemed to block its ears and didn't quite respond. I told my heart to heal. I reassured it that no pain can last, that just because it's as tiny as my clenched fist, doesn't mean it's not stronger than everything being thrown at me. I kept talking and talking but it swore to never talk back. I told my body to get its shit together and ignore the utter exhaustion and that it's okay to move, that blood is still running through my veins and that there's no accurate reason for it to be so glued to the bed. It responded after 3 hours. It did leave the bed after a several arguments between the both of us. When my feet decided to walk -and trust me, I have no idea how they managed to do so- I, for some reason, avoided looking at all the mirrors in the house and I kept wondering why we had so many mirrors hanging almost everywhere around the house. What would possibly be so interesting to look at every five seconds? It's not like your face would surprisingly decide to look hotter by the time you walk out of your room and reach the corridor. I turned the T.V on and I couldn't feel more disgusted. How could someone be made of flesh, bones, skin and spuriousness? I couldn't help but feel sorry for them but then I felt sorry for myself for judging people poorly without getting to know them with their skin peeled off. I had decided to not eat and to not do anything. To do nothing. To feel nothing. To be nothing. Just like I always seem to do. Maybe if I become nothing, nothing will hurt. Maybe the nothingness I am will shut away the whole world and I would finally stop vomiting every word I uttered at the wrong time. Maybe I would vomit all my regrets and let my head be as empty as my stomach. But it doesn't work that way. How strange is it to let a million thoughts run inside your head at just one single morning and not even be aware of the time passing you by? How silly is it to exist and not live, how fragile of me to pathetically not let myself be?