Influx
Legacy Name: Influx

When I wake up, the first thing I do is find my socks. I have a bad habit of kicking my socks off in my sleep. After I find my socks, I like to fold them and place them on the end of the bed so I can go back to them later.
In the early spring, the dogwood trees bloom. They smell unpleasant, but they're so beautiful that I don't really mind. I have to ask if someone can crack open my window for me. Not a lot. Just a little.
It's still kind of cold outside, but I sit on protruding bench near the window. I tilt my chin so I can feel the crisp air on my face, and I get a faint smell of dogwood. There is a dogwood tree right outside my window. She's so lovely. I named her Morgan.
It's still too early for lunch, so I sit in the loft and wonder about what it would be like to be candle. I wonder what it would be like to be the glint in someone's eyes. I wonder what it would be like to be a bloodstain on a white shirt.
Somebody comes into my room and tells me I have to go to Group. I never know what to say in Group, but I like to listen to other people. I like to know I'm not alone.

I'm not impressed when people come into my room in the middle of the night to take my blood. It's my blood. I made it. I want to know where my blood is going. I just have to ask.
Apparently they take my blood to the lab to check for imbalances caused by my medications. Something in me tells me they're lying, but something a little louder tells me that they can't be lying, because my blood is just blood. It's practically worthless in the tiny tubes they take from me.
I'm so tired. I watch them leave my room, becoming shadows stretched out in the hall from the open door. I look out the window, and in the faint starlight, I can see the blossoms of the dogwood tree. That makes me feel a little bit better.

The bed I sleep on has a very thin mattress. The frame of the bed is nailed to the floor. There is no headboard. I had a headboard at one point, but it got taken from me. I couldn't reject it, even if I wanted to. It was my own fault, really. I have my own bathroom, but the shower is tiny and doesn't have doors on it. That's also my fault. Sometimes I can't help myself. I get so cold that very hot showers are the only thing that helps, but since it was far too hot, they took my doors.
In a perfect world, I don't think I would be here. That might be unfair to say though, because I don't really mind it so much anymore. It gets kind of lonely, though. People come and go. But that's just life. People come when they need you, and leave when they're done with you. That's the narrative for everyone, I think. Not just me.
I feel at times that my brain is flooded from thoughts that are not mine. My mind is a clear lake in early May, but when the rain comes, the meltwater surges inside, turning it a churning, foaming brown color. I don't know why this is happening to me. If I knew, I would tell you. All I know is that once the floodgates open, nothing can stop them.
But it's getting better. It is always getting better.

Split his ribs open using my bare hands, but I could not repair all of the damage.
Nicole Dollanganger

credits

Story by nervous art by v-ya on meiker images credit (in order) one two three hosted on Unsplash
background by wallup header by jynani on tumblr.
Thank you Thundercracker for letting me adopt!!!