Rational thought is not my forte

Sour breath streaks across this silent window pane, and the irony of sunny birthdays is not lost on me as I soak in the solitude of my un-diagnosed depression. I will the air to lapse me into a never ending daydream, as consciousness is a state of mind I find to be distracting. I can feel my throat shrink every time a pill is placed on my tongue, and my mind can keep a very accurate count, even after I’ve used up all my fingers and toes. The last time I managed to fall asleep was the day before yesterday, and before that I’m not sure I’ve ever slept at all. Surely this body must come to find rest at some point, but perhaps I am more machine than man. That would explain why I am parts and pieces, given and taken away, until the only thing left are the bones meant for junkyard dogs. I can’t find my own flow, so I sit and watch the Moon, pretending I’m another body of water being moved by a light I’ll never touch. The portion of my brain still capable of rational thought tells me the Moon has no light, it just reflects the Sun. But that’s even more perfect! To be jealous of the fake, just going along with things because that’s what’s expected! That’s exactly the type of counter-intuitive creature I have become; my acceptance of this reality undercutting everything I have ever been to the point where I can’t be sure of what I ever was…

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