His
dreams were becoming more vivid. More lucid. More real to him.
Every night he'd dream and every night he'd feel more alive then
ever. Being awake and being asleep are one in the same when you
feel nothing, but when you feel while asleep, then are you awake?
He hadn't left his bed in days, forcing himself to sleep just
to feel. Just to remember what it's like to care, to have emotion,
to be loved. Not changing his clothes, not showering, not eating.
Sleep was his way of self destruction.
The bottle of pills lay poured over on the night table.
Cornflower blue pills of self loathing scattered across the night
stand. The bottle almost empty, how many would he take at a time?
Not enough.
Was he even actually asleep? Or just in a drug induced state
of subconsciousness?
At this point, it didn't matter, any feeling was a good feeling.
Every dream was like being born again. A new experience, a new
life, a new you. Everything you wish you could have, everything
you wish you could be, available over the counter.
The new way of life was finally taking it's toll on him. Everything
was going fine, but the stress. The emptiness. The nothing. The
feeling of not being in total control has taken over.
It's not the same as it was three months ago. He was in total
control. He was the dictator.
Slowly but surely, he lost that power.
Moving so quickly in his career, he found that the real competition
lies ahead and everything before was just filler. He thought he
earned everything, but he didn't. It was just there to give him
the boost, to make him a star, to get people to hate him. Then
to have him pounded into the ground.
He was starting to realize this fact.
Set up for failure.
Twice in a life time can be more then most people can tolerate.
Just as the hand on a clock struck half passed emptiness, his
eyes opened. Glazed over and confused he just looked up to the
white ceiling.
Was he in heaven?
I'm afraid not.
His limp and lifeless hand swatted at the night stand trying
to find more of his sleep in a dissolvable plastic, but with the
lack of emotional and physical feeling, the pills just end up
flying to the floor, mixed in with the carpet.
A wince of discontent came over his face after realizing what
he had done, followed by a groan.
After being in bed for a week, he almost forgot how to walk.
Stumbling across the carpet to the bathroom on the other side
of the room was a chore. The medicine feeling resting in his stomach
was stronger then ever. M
More of a reason to go back to sleep and preferably not get back
up.
The dimmers on the bathroom lights were set to low. After being
in darkness for days, anything lighter then a dim glow seemed
to be the sun inches away from his face.
Leaning over the sink, his arms were weak. He could barely hold
himself up. His face pale, his eyes sagging, days worth of growth
on his chin. Glancing at the mirror, he couldn't bring his eyes
away from his own.
"What am I doing to myself?" His whispered, hoping
for an answer but receiving none.
Turning on the water, listening to the liquid hitting the bottom
of the sink was refreshing to him. Waiting a moment for the water
to get a bit warmer, he continued to stare at the mirror and examine
himself.
"What have you let yourself come to? This isn't you."
His voice was raspy and low, days without speaking will do this
to you.
"You're better then this, don't let it go back to how it
used to be. Get back on your feet and get back into the action.
You know what you need to do. Just do it. You've lost everything
and feel nothing, what makes you feel?" Speaking to himself
like someone else was in the room, came as natural as fighting
to him. Oddly enough, it's the one thing that may have kept him
sane.
"You need that rush." He splashed water on his face.
Most rushed off, but the beads stuck and slowly dripped down his
face as he continued to stare into his own eyes.
"You need the rush to feel. You've lived on it for so long,
you don't know how to live any other way. Keep yourself going
in your off time and everything will be fine. You don't want to
be stuck here the rest of your life do you?" Finally breaking
the stare, he stood up straight and stretched out his arms and
leaned backwards, his back cracking.
"Get out there and find that rush." His voice was back
to normal. Confident, ready, determined.
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