weekends | mgc

XXVII - comfortably numb

Its never gonna be the same ever again.

I never said anything like that out loud before.

Its such a powerful saying and most of the human population is lying when they say it.

But I wasn't lying.

Everything zipped by me like it was nothing after that.

I watched TV, but I wasn't actually watching.

I did my homework, but it was effortless.

I spoke so meaninglessly, even the words I tried to form didn't make sense in my head anymore.

I felt so dead. I felt so tired, so emotionally tired. I felt everything and nothing at the same time.

I was numb. My heart doesn't know if it should keep beating anymore. My brain is making slow and idiotic decisions.

Is this what it feels like? To let go?

There was this void in my heart, but stress has taken over. I did everything reluctantly.

I wanted something to make me feel happier. But I had been avoiding human contact for days now.

That fucking song is stuck in my head although I haven't listened to it for over a month. I knew it by heart. I always thought of him when it played.

It played in my head so slowly as I did everything and nothing.

I wanted to scream, but my voice had betrayed me.

I don't know what to do anymore. How do you deal with this when you never thought you'd have to face it?

I felt like a torch, slowly losing its flame. I felt cold. I felt needles pinning through my head as I heard the world interact around me.

Tell me this isn't what I think it is...

The darkness is nice. Its not questioning me about something I do not know about.

"Indie?" Aunt Donna spoke so softly as she knocked on my bedroom door.

I couldn't even let out a hum. She opened my door, which I failed to lock, and closed it behind her.

I was glad she didn't decide to flick on the lights, because I don't think my eyes and brain would cooperate so easily.

I heard her move slowly towards the window and pull the curtains open. The moon reflected on her figure, allowing me to see her silhouette.

I closed my eyes, I exhaled and inhaled.

I felt the weight of my bed shift as Donna sat on the edge of my bed.

"Its only seven o'clock, Dude." Aunt Donna let out a small chuckle.

I snuggled into my pillows and blankets, not letting her see my face in the little light shining into the room.

"You won't speak to me?"

"Its not like that." I said, finally using my voice in days. It was scratchy and hoarse.

"I know its not." Donna scooted closer to me and pulled down the blanket that covered my face.

The back of her hand was warm against my cold face. It felt nice.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" She questioned.

I shook my head slowly.

"Would you talk to me? Please?" Aunt Donna asked in a concerned tone.

"I don't know what this is." I answered bluntly.

"Its called being hurt." She said like she knew exactly what I was going through.