It was Monday, Jo decided. It was Monday when the healing could really begin, and she could actually take a breather from her busy work life. She was in all honesty really trying to push back the feeling that her day off on Monday was more like a bandaid on the fixer-upper that her busy schedule had become. It was weird, she thought, how fast she could be deluded into thinking that one day in the series of days it took for her head to catch up with itself could quite possibly just heal all her problems like that.
Regardless of her inner thoughts on the subject she maintained this positivity, laying there in bed with the alarm clock blasting a fuzzy Cher song in her ears and waking her unwilling eyes to the early morning sunlight casting spots of hateful warmth on the floor. A spot her cat was laying in, licking himself daintily and noisily.
Positivity, my ass, she thought. Even the sunlight was hateful.
"If I could turn back tiiiime," the alarm blared, and she reached out and slapped the snooze button quite angrily (the opposite of the happiness she told herself she felt). She rubbed her eyes sleepily, feeling all kinds of things at once.
One; she needed desperately to shave her legs. They were getting prickly again and her habit of rubbing them together like a happy cricket was getting annoying because of how Not Smooth they were. The opposite of Smooth. She hated that.
Two; How to feel Positive when everything in her wanted to scream? Another Bad Feeling she shoved down immediately - File that one away under It Doesn't Matter, Nothing Matters, Nothing-
Three; the alarm woke up again, somehow, against all radio rules and odds, had started back up again on that same - damn - stinking song-
"IF I COULD FIND A WAY," Cher bleated from the speakers, "I'D TAKE BACK THOSE WORDS THAT HURT YOU-"
It was cut short immediately by Jo, who gave quite possibly the most solid screech of pure frustration she could manage without waking her downstairs neighbors and threw the stupid thing at the wall where it fell unplugged with a thump, almost seeming resentful. Her cat, offended at this sudden transgression of killing his morning peace, careened across the bed.
"I hate Cher," Jo muttered.
That wasn't true. Regardless, based on her mood, it still felt true anyways.
The reason for her decline in mental health wasn't one solid thing, but more like a series of things. The most recent of which boiled down to some weird dreams she had been having and couldn't shake the feeling of any more than she could shake the feeling that something awful was about to happen. The two seemed interconnected in a way she didn't understand in the least. The images these dreams gave her..it was weird. Like she was missing somebody she had never met. Deep down in her mind, in her soul, the thought of this person made her heart clench. Made her soul throb and she didn't even know who he was. He was tall, she knew, but the details of his face was always obscured by the fuzzy mist that accompanied her more normal dream. However, this was not normal. A normal weird dream to Jo was more like: I'm in high school again. I'm thinking about becoming a registered nurse. Suddenly a big blue fire truck crashes through the building and I'm in my underpants!
No, this was more like a series of deep, unregistered feelings. A sort of jungle of wind and light where she was running from something indescribably scary and at the end of it, this figure. This man. And it always hit her that whenever she saw his face arrive into that fuzzy detail..those eyes. Bright green, with the promise of other worlds beyond them.
Okay, tall and handsome, she thought, of course. I've been reading too many novels lately or something.
She shuddered because the thought of those eyes looking at her with such sadness made her feel indescribably awful - like he was saying Remember Me, Love Me.
If I could turn back time.
"I have no clue who that is," she said aloud, stupidly, to her empty bedroom.
Butters the cat, returned stubbornly to his sunlight, paused midway with a back paw raised from licking his privates to stare at her as if to say "Get it together, woman."
Monday, Monday, Monday.
Monday would fix everything.
That is what she told herself.
Спасибо за чтение!
Мы можем поддерживать Inkspired бесплатно, показывая рекламу нашим посетителям.. Пожалуйста, поддержите нас, добавив в белый список или отключив AdBlocker.
После этого перезагрузите веб-сайт, чтобы продолжить использовать Inkspired в обычном режиме.