[Note: updated 03/27/22]

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Up at late hours. Up until the sun is gone means a terrible fluttering in my stomach, an emptiness at the back of my mouth, a shrinking in my lungs. And I still feel the air as it rests between breaths. That dry delirium, where I know there should be some particular thought in focus but I cannot for the life of me imagine what, where the open sky is everywhere and unending and keeps me in place.

 

That's how I feel every day now. Every breath smells of blood. All my muscles ache.

 

Stupid seasonal allergies.

 

Oh well. Doors and windows blocked still. If I was a kid, this would be a great adventure, living in a tree, surviving on my own. In a wild place, or at least I could pretend. It’s not nearly as fun without the energy to go anywhere. I don’t mean to, but I fall asleep without knowing it. If I didn’t stay way up high, I wouldn’t last long. With all the other animals wandering by. Not as fun as it sounded in the books.

 

I passed out again today. The ceiling was so far away. I saw it and could not close my eyes and I could fly nowhere. Stuck in place. Gone to a void. Everything unfocused. A bookshelf fell onto the floor and crushed my stomach. The windows don’t move. The doors don’t bother. Why here?