icy wind beat against my thin sweatshirt that was two sizes too small. my legs, having long given up trying to fit inside, were tucked right up against my chest as i hugged them as tightly as i could. i buried my face in the crook of my arm, and sobbed.
i have not slept at all in 28 hours, and only 8 hours in the past 3 days. i don't know why i cried, or why i did so hard. day old mascara covers my sleeves, and the whites of my eyes look the same tint of blood red that they did the day i came home from surgery, and my chest feels as if it's going to cave in. the cashier from 7eleven recommended that i upgrade from a starbucks double shot to a 5 hour energy shot. i regretfully declined.
it's time for me to rest. to REALLY rest. i just don't know if i know how. so close to the edge,
'but good times gonna come. it's gonna be, a bright, beautiful day. good times gonna come.'
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