I missed a day. I'll write twice some day to make up for it.

Bit 9

I can feel all of my potential solidifying, cementing itself into my tendons.
I remember when weekends were the only thing I wanted, when I would eat sugary cereals and wake up at 7 a.m. just to watch Charlie Brown. When my sisters and I would wear the same pajamas in different colors and sing along with Celine Dion songs while scuffing around on the living room floor in our fuzzy socks.
Now all I can think about is time, how much of it I'm wasting, how much more I need, how little energy I have left to give. It hurts to try and work at anything, it makes me emotionally exhausted.
After just ten hours of being awake I'm ready to pass right back out, but I'm never completely asleep. His dark shadow creeps up from beneath the little glowing creases around the edges of my bedroom door and I can't breathe.
There's a glint of silver and I can hear the air in front of me rip open, the stink of his skin, and I'm never completely asleep.