Getting out of bed can be a feat.

It takes every ounce of energy to even whip off the covers.

To look in the mirror is almost cruel and unusual punishment. Who is that that stares right back at me? A familiar face with distraught features. A shell with nothing in it.

Sometimes feeling utterly alone, all I want to do is yell loud at the top of my smokey lungs, simply to be heard. I want to scream so loud, “I’M HERE!” that I burst !POOF! into a trillion little, itty bitty particles, dissipating  into a different dimension. Slowly float away, every piece moving into a different direction, never getting back together again. This is me me on a bad day.

On a bad day there is no me getting out of bed to conquer the day, no. If I get out of bed on a bad day, you’d be lucky if it’s to shower. On a bad day I eat ice cream for breakfast and straight out of the carton. I watch sad movies and t.v shows, listen to sad songs, and ignore any and all responsibilities.

There isn’t a phone call I will answer. There isn’t a text I quickly respond to. On a bad day no communication matters. Not even the one I have between pen and paper. On a bad day I have no friends. I have no family. On a bad day it is me against the world. Even the sunniest day on a bad day is doom and gloom.

No books of fantasy and make believe can snap me out of  having a bad day.  To read word after word takes too much energy. It’s energy I rather save for the fits of rage that will later come and go. Energy I rather save for my pillow that will be soon fluffed to death by punches of sorrow.

I hardly have these bad days but when I do, world prepare, because these are dark dark days. I am a glass half full that has been knocked over. On a bad day I am damaged like a rotten apple that has fallen from its branch and left sadly on the ground. On the grass I lay, dying,  as I stare up into the sky. My wishes of better days to come float up into the heavens only to be ignored by the angels of the white light. Saints of darkness, instead, breath them in and cough them out.

Wishes of better days go on to die… and again, I’m left totally behind.

A dying wish alone on a bad day.