a glass ceiling between you and the surface

I can feel myself hanging onto the edge of consciousness, as if I’ve just woken up from a full night’s sleep and having trouble getting up for another day of high school. But my limbs feel like they’ve been cut open and filled with lead and steel to weigh me down to this bed, and little slivers of pain permeate thought fog surrounding my brain, and I know because of this that this isn’t a regular day of high school. I can feel someone playing with my left hand, kneading all the stiff fingers and making fists and other things to try to restore regular feeling. But my mind is swimming in a pale sea of numbingness, and any attempt to try to communicate with the people around me just results in another dose of sedatives and a slate wiped clean of any thoughts when I do manage to wake up.
At nights, or at least I assume they are nights because the amount if stimuli goes down, I can feel foreign presences entering my body- Calum and Ophelia, I think they call themselves?- and suddenly I am able to think clearly, no matter how any drugs I am hopped up on. But instead of leaving me alone to contemplate my fate, they distract me by pulling up buried memories from my childhood, mostly pleasurable ones, but every once in a while one that’s cringeworthy in order to keep me from getting too comfortable. I never knew I lost so many memories of the small city that I grew up in before moving in kindergarten… is it possible that May be feeling the same way, since her and I seem to be connected in too many ways?


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