one hundred ways

12

Over the weekend I thankfully had the whole house to myself. Had it been last weekend, my first impulse would have been to host a party. But now, the last thing I have on my mind would be parties. I stay in my room, huddled in a swath of duvets and comforters, even if it's springtime already.

I'm shaking again, and I'm trying to keep my breathing steady. Tears spill uncontrollably, and I'm trying to stop, but my mind is fighting itself. I'm trying really, really hard to stop thinking, but to do that, I must think. My breathing hitches, and it sounds strangely hiccupy. I can't feel my fingers, and I'm afraid that I'm going to die.

It started out with me scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, and that's when I spotted I smiling photo of my trio of friends, once five. A pang of guilt sears through my system, and everything went into override.

My eyes are raw from crying, and breathing hurts, but I manage to creep downstairs and find a grey hoodie on the couch, with a single sticky note stuck to it. "Take my jacket, it's cold outside. -N" I smile and even laugh a little, but the sound is a bitter reminder of something else.