I woke up. Even though I had only just
opened my eyes, I felt as if I had spent the entire night awake. My pillow had
dried – it felt rough, stiff – but I didn’t want to leave just yet. I stared
back at the ceiling instead, trying to make sense of its finely drawn cracks
and its waterlogged edges. I watched, hoping to seal the image forever in my
mind. Maybe, one day, I would be able to put it to use. The bed creaked as I
attempted to move but the lethargy was so much stronger. It held me back and I
felt no respite from its iron-like grip. Like a clingy lover, begging me to
stay for just another hour. And I had no choice but to give in to its toxic
demands. It sucked away my will, a tiny sliver at a time until I had nothing
left for myself. My body was a hollow shell and I was a spectator. I watched
myself from above – and I felt nothing. I had lost my soul.
