After I turn of the fourth alarm of the morning- I’d set the other alarms long ago, in an attempt to wake up earlier- I notice that my body feels heavier than usual. Strange considering I’ve been loosing weight despite my desperate efforts to eat more.
I try to sit up, but my ever shrinking muscles can’t lift me so instead I check my phone. First my social media. That reminds me that I have some writing I need to do, writing I was exited about a couple of days ago, so why does my body feel even heavier? Thinking about it and knowing I probably won’t do it today makes my stomach hurt, so I close whichever sinkhole I’m mindlessly scrolling though and open a game I saw and add for a couple of weeks ago. It’s entirely pointless. I’ve been cycling thought the same 5ish mazes so often that the illusion of progress has long faded.
Beside me, my man starts to stir. He opens his eyes, gives my leg a squeeze and then picks up his own phone. After he’s had a chance to shake of sleep completely he asks me if I’m going to work on that thing I told him I’d do for him. As he does some invisible force wraps a long thick cord around my body, like a python wrapped around its pray, and ties me to the bed. I tell him I’m probably won’t.
A little more time passes when I check the time. In an instant I’m up. It’s an entire hour later then when I usually feed my dog. She must be getting hungry.
Writing Things Better 