"You're so lucky. You get to go back to sleep as soon as you get home. I have to go to work."
You say that, but you're wrong. I'm not lucky. You get to go to work. You get to distract yourself with different tasks while I sit in my room twiddling my thumbs. While I sit watching this repeating image, this thing we did. While thoughts chase circles within circles 'round it, tails wagging off into waves of confusion, of guilt. Not ripples, only waves, that grow in ferocity, in intensity. Waves that bounce off each other, make each other stronger. Waves that bite holes in the side of my head. If waves had mouths, anyway.
No, I'm not lucky.
