Secondhand


My body responds secondhand.

Bones fracture, muscles ache, skin blisters, and my head pulsates. I operate through the day squeaking similar to the hinges on my bed. In the end, I'm bitter with the decisions I caused in the past to gift me with such a worn and torn body.

I gaze up at the ceiling, on my bed that's burrowed in similar to a prisoner attempting to escape. Tears arise in my eyes and my consciousness digresses. Amidst troubling thoughts, I fall dormant.

Crack

My eyelids fluttered open.

Snap

I'm within a field. The fragrance of freshly trimmed grass touches my nose. I zeroed in on the azure sky, stretched out like a blanket guarding the heavens.

Crack

I'm inside the inlying of my one-time body. The child body. The genuine one.

The opportunity that I misused.

I won't dissipate this time.

I spring. I run. I obtain control of my time. I let pass the weight that impedes me in reality.

Snap

I glance across, towards the farthermost limits that my eyes can detect, and whatever I view inundates me what words can not express, similar to the horror of final tests.

My utopia is collapsing.

I attempt to stay, I do, adhere to the paradise that I obtain for hardly a night. The sight and smells that fill me with happiness and the body that just right for me.

But I can't.

The cracks proceed closer, so close that I can peer into the gloom below, the vacuum, the beyond. The area where I don't desire to go to. The place where I am tired and forever blue. That place...

My arms flail in the air, as the last of my utopia disappears, and I awaken. My back throbs, I'm exhausted, although I just slept.

Reality sucks.

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