Myosotis

“This will really help me? Are you sure”

        “Trust me, you’ll feel better in no time. It’s like an antidepressant or something.” 

He gave me a remedy.

        It hurts. A throbbing pain pulsates through my head leaving me a disoriented mess. Ignoring the sting, I turn my head towards where I assume the window to be. The curtains are closed, no light seeps through the gap; good. I throw my legs off the side of the bed and risk pushing myself off. My legs are unsteady as I make my way towards the dim light of the bathroom. There is a half full glass already by the sink that I immediately gulp down. My throat still feels too dry. I fill the glass again and take out a bottle of aspirin, dumping four in my palm. The pills are gone in a second, providing very little reprieve from the ache of my body. 

Sunlight beats down on me as I weave through markers. I had never been here alone; it’s much harder to navigate when there’s no procession you can see from a mile away. My hands felt awfully clammy as I approached what I hoped was the right plot. A clean slab stood before me. 

“I should’ve brought you some flowers, huh?...I’m sorry, I forgot.” I lean my side against the tablet. “I’m not really sure what kind you would’ve liked anyway, you know I’m not great at making decisions. Lately, I haven’t made any good decisions. You’ll have to come rip me a new one soon.” I wipe my hands on my jeans and push myself off the ground. “I’ve been trying, really, but everything's such a mess right now, hell I probably look like shit… sorry…I should go now, before it gets too dark. I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” 

        It’s dark by the time I pull into the lot, the breeze felt great as I made my way up to my floor. As soon as I stepped through the door I was hit with a nauseating odor. Shortly following the wave of disgust came a splitting migraine. I cover my face with my hands to deter as much of the smell as possible, and begin searching for the origin of the scent. Every cabinet had been opened but I still could not find where the smell was coming from. It was not a scent I could name, that would have made things easier, all I knew was the longer I inhaled this air the more queasy I felt. My headache had progressively gotten worse and I could feel the beginnings of bile climbing up my throat. Before I know it, I’m hunched over the toilet, emptying my stomach of whatever I had eaten that day. Vomit burned my throat and the putrid smell had me dry heaving against the wall. There was nothing more in my stomach that I could dispose of. I stayed like that until I thought I could move again. I felt like crying.

        Waking up has become harder. My alarm no longer works as it should, the only thing able to rouse me is an excruciating headache. Irregular sleep patterns have become a standard to me; I wake, take my medication, and eat. The kitchen had certainly seen better days; dishes occupy most of the sink and the counters are covered in stains of who knows what. I find a spoon in the sink and rinse it off before rummaging through a cabinet for any clean bowl. Most meals the past few weeks have been takeout, sandwiches, or cereal. Cereal has been my recent go-to since my milk is on the verge of being inedible. I decide to take my meal on the balcony, recently my apartment has felt far too suffocating. 

It has become common for me to wake up gasping for air. I don’t remember it being so hard to breathe. No matter how much energy I exert I end up winded, struggling to suck in another breath. This development has me feeling awfully faint. Every step I take is more difficult than the last. I have not been able to leave my apartment for a few days for fear that I will only get worse. If this goes on for much longer I won’t be able to restock my medication. I reach a shaky hand towards the sink and turn the faucet on. After a few splashes of water I look at myself through the mirror.

“Alright, it’ll be fine. I’ll get another dose and everything’ll be fine.” I run my hands down my face and take a shaky breath. “I just need another dose so I can get out of the house.”

I can’t breathe; it hurts too much. It feels like my throat cracks with every inhale, my mouth is unbearably dry. Water. I need water. As soon as I’m on my feet I lurch to my right and steady myself to the wall. My head pulses with every staggering step I take towards the bathroom. I throw my head in the sink and guzzle as much water as I can manage before I need to pull back for air. It’s not enough, I need something more. I swing the cabinet door open and grab a bottle of aspirin. Four wouldn’t be enough, I dump the bulk of the bottle in my hand and shove it all in my mouth. My head goes back under the faucet and I chug down enough water for the pills to squeeze down my throat. 

“Not enough, not enough…” I rummage through my medicine cabinet until stopping at a small container. A few stray bottles are knocked onto the floor as I pull the container out. I wrench open the lid and see it’s almost empty. 

“F**K! This won’t do anything!” I rifle through the drawers under the sink frantically. “There’s gotta be more somewhere.” As I reach the edge of the drawers I feel a sharp sting before a warmth starts to build up in my palm. I pull my hand out to see a large gash down the center of my hand. “God damn it. Where the hell did I leave the gauze?” The longer I look, the harder it becomes to see. My vision blurs and I can feel a wet heat cascading down my face. I push the cabinet door closed and stare at my reflection.

“Holy shit…” I looked insane. I was drenched in sweat leaving my hair a matted mess and my pupils were nothing but specks behind all the tears building up in my eyes. My hands reach my face and start trying to rub away the tears but all that does is stain my face a disgusting red. The longer I attempt to wipe my face the dirtier it gets, and the more ragged my breathing becomes. Soft gasps and hiccups had begun echoing off the walls which only served to upset me more. I cower away from the mirror until I feel my back hit the wall and I fall to the ground. My hands rest on my face, the incessant rubbing had done nothing but smear snot, tears, and blood. I pull myself up enough to reach the container I had set on the counter.

“..I’m sorry mom..”