You push yourself into bed.
Exhausted from the day.
Re-watching how ignorant you were to the people you love.
Imagining all the awful things they think about you.
How much you let them down.
How pointless it was that you even visited.
Because you barely spoke.
Constantly preoccupied with an unseen, very important appointment with your thoughts.
Dreading that they won’t ask to see you again.
Even though, with all your heart.
They are the only thing that gets you through.
What makes you scrape that hair back.
And douse your mouth in mouthwash.
After turning your alarm off 15 times.
They’re why you peel yourself out of bed.
Reluctant but necessary.
Because zombie auto mode.
Disembodied dreamstate you.
Is better than overly analysing.
Scarily on edge of screaming.
Desperate to switch off.
Urgently needing to escape.
Drowning in your thoughts.
Suicide evoking you.