Stress

There is a pain behind my eyes that will not go away. Sleepless nights spent staring at pages, words blurring, coffee spilling, staining the papers a deep brown, like dirt. Music in languages I can't understand is blearing from my speakers, keeping me awake with this endless nightmare. My glasses sit next to my hand, hands that are stained black with ink from writing notes on notes in the dark hours of the day. I want to cry. I want to sleep. I want to be able to relax again, to smile without having to worry about it looking fake. My trembling fingertips betray the fear I've been holding in, the fear that nothing has been able to shake from my body. All I have is myself here, and I don't think that's going to be enough. Will you come and help me learn to breath again?

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My mind is a jumble of "slafkjheiwuhafjshdfliauhfs" right now.

Headache.

Ow.