An Affair With Life: A Composition by Emilie Paz

Last week the sheets were rustling;
The ceiling fan on full blast, goosebumps rising on my legs, matching the rise and fall of their chest.
We were sleeping soundly to the hum of the fan;
To the wheels of cars graveling against the pavement outside.
Nearing an ungodly hour I awake in a haze of somewhere in-between awareness and avoidance.

I’m awake,
I resent this.
I’m awake,
I resent this.
I’m awake,
I resent this.

My glasses slide down the white sheets and thump onto the carpet, accompanying my abandoned heels tossed off last night in the heat of the moment. Lackadaisical.

Too lazy to care, I aimlessly stare at the indentions in the ceiling. It’s getting colder.

I set out to turn over a new leaf in my life, instead I turn over in bed to stare at my nightmare in the flesh. Monstrosity lying in it’s stillest form. It’s tragic, but it’s gorgeous.

Nobody knows where I am,
Nor do I.
Do not look for me,
You will not find me.

Meanwhile, setting my disappearance aside, I stand still in the midst of a raging storm, reflecting upon the worst moments of my life.

Do not help me,
I do not want your help.

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