Salvation

10 |

It's Always Darkest Before the Dawn, Except When Dawn is Never Coming and You Are Eternally Stuck in a Painful Abyss of Meaninglessness

A L E X A N D R I A
—

6:00 AM - 6:05 AM = wake up at a painfully early time and pinch self for not sleeping more, even though not much choice was had in the matter

6:05 AM - 6:15 AM = shower as you blare music to drown out the sorrow that is your life (note to self: try to get your showering down to this amount of time so as to reduce OCD's control over your life)

6:15 AM - 6:20 AM = brush teeth and hair while holding back sobs so as not to be weak

6:20 AM - 6:25 AM = apply minimal makeup if Athena inspired/forced you to (go for eyeliner if you must do something!)

6:25 AM - 6:30 AM = try to name three positive traits about the world (obviously Athena's idea)

6:30 AM - 6:45 AM = drive to work

6:45 AM - 5:00 PM = work in your hateful office until Jackass Numero 8 dismisses you

5:00 PM - 8:00 PM = read poetry (remember: stay strong and don't tell a soul, everyone'll think it's hilarious that the little intern who never speaks except to insult those who are rude to her loves poetry – the only exception is Athena, she wouldn't laugh, but it's fucking personal, and I don't want questions)

8:00 PM - 9:30 PM = attempt to write poetry and decide that the finished product is on the more favourable side of decent

9:30 PM - 6:00 AM = sleep fitfully, wake up approximately every hour or so

A fond smile spreads across my face as I reflect on my old schedule from two years ago. Back then, I was so cheerful...

Well, more cheerful at least. In my schedule, I was 65% joking. Now, the average amount of joking tone I use has gone down to 40%. Or I believe that's fairly accurate.

Now, I use more of a deadpan humour. Then again, I suppose my humour never really involved cheerful punchlines or puppies who juggled blanketed babies in debonair top hats – although the more that I think of such an occurrence, the more I'm inclined to at least giggle.

"Dork! I got your text!" Duke explains in a hurry, rushing into my apartment.

"How did you even get in?" I ask, ignoring her statement. I know what I wrote, and it was a sentiment I expressed in a solitary moment of weakness – nothing more. So, as I normally do when I break down (as occurs with every machine) to Duke, I ignore the issue.

My moments of breaking down are typically fleeting, easily repressed through practice, and therefore I don't wish to refer to them as breakdowns. They also do not normally come up more than once a year. I've got the mentally unstable thing down to a science.

That's the problem. I always had it down to a science. But now? I feel different, as if

"What's wrong with me?" I muse, touching my hand to my forehead in a quick, graceful gesture of exasperation. Duke raises a brow.

"Dude, that is one question that rarely gives people an answer that pleases them."

Fair enough.

"Thanks for your insight, Goddess," I snipe. She shrugs. "Was just trying to be helpful. Also, I dropped all my stuff at my workplace and raced over here to help you. You could be at least mildly grateful."

I frown. "Goddamnit, you're right. I hate when that happens." Once I see a smile spread across her face, I go for my real apology, knowing I've sufficiently softened her. It still might be hard, as I was being a jackass and she wasn't at all.

"...And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been rude in such a way. You don't deserve that; not in the slightest." My earnestness sways her easily, and she offers me a hug. "C'mere," she coaxes me until I reluctantly sit next to her on my couch. "Now...down to business."

I close my eyes briefly after returning the hug. Duke on a mission is a force to behold, and I have a front row seat of this force. Not to mention, it's aimed at me.

—

For thirty - two minutes and twenty - nine seconds (according to the stopwatch I set once my friend warned me that her version of therapy was going to take awhile), I have been listening to her. Duke, I mean. And the girl can ramble, Jesus fuck, but she brought up some good points. My favourite, personally, was "You are a lonely cat lady, except you don't have a cat. Either get a life or a cat. Preferably a cat. I love cats." But a strong contender for the position was "You should have gone for that cute, overly nice girl, and I say this solely out of a desire for your happiness to flourish. Idiot."

"Focus, Alexandria Christine Edgenight!"

Snapping to attention, I frown at my friend. "You know I dislike my first name."

"There's no reason to. I mean, come on – fucking Athena? That's not remotely good. But Alexandria? Strong and pretty and wild and smart, that's the kind of person who'd be named Alexandria."

I smile at her suddenly. She can be a sweetheart, even though it's often in ways I don't initially want her to be a sweetheart in.

"Look, I get your position," I admit to her. "I get how I seem lonely, how that would obviously be where my mental health issues stemmed from." Before I form my next words, I pause momentarily, just long enough for Daya's face to flash in my mind, before I extinguish the light that comes from such a thought. "But that's not why I'm sad. I'm sure of it. I've always been a lonely woman, and before that, a lonely girl. Cutting people off is what I do. And I think that now...now, it's why I feel so weird. I don't want to cut her off, not Daya – never Daya – and yet I have to. Because that is who I am as a person. She and I are not compatible."

I am unusually shocked that I didn't break off into tears by the end, and fairly relieved as well.

"You are, you dork!" Duke spits. "Of course you are! That's why you can't stop thinking about her!"

I stare at her in wonderment, and then that's quickly wiped away as I settle an expression of disbelief upon my features. "How unlikely."

—

How was your day? (:

Stay lovely!

sidenote: Wow, all my characters are idiotic, it's really kind of concerning. I love them anyways, though! They're like my kids, except I wouldn't consider writing smut about my kids.