By Destiny Falls

Any available appointments? I’m emailing to reschedule an Emotional Breakdown.

Within the confines of this draft I want your sincerest opinion. Do I look okay? The stress has been getting to me. Would haves and should haves occupy my mind and they don’t seem to be wavering. They’ve found a home where my dreams used to reside. I hadn’t noticed the eviction of motivation and passion until exhaustion had renewed its lease. If I shed a tear for my lost companions what comes next? Crying, like every other action, requires my energy. And after having given that, what do I have just for myself? You’re asking me to share a piece of myself with you. So I’ll give you this much, in a draft I might send, and then you can never ask this of me again.

Excuse me while I stifle a scream into the lines on my palms. I used to believe they told fortunes. Creating lives from where connections start and end. Instead I’ve found that those lines are the streams your silence is meant to flow in. Sometimes even a single tear, if unbearable as an emotion, sneaks past its borders. I have this under control. A few small breaths, a distraction from a distraction, and a reason for why things are not going my way. I’ll be ready soon, I need 3 minutes to pick myself up from where I last lost it. This will be quick. I promise. Trust me.

Do you? Trust me, I mean. Why wouldn’t you, of course? I just mean in the sense that you haven’t seemed to have lost your spark. I put mine down just a few moments ago. Or did I drop it? Unsure, really, but it isn’t in this space, with us. Will they be able to tell? Could you? I am asking because you admitted to knowing me. Or you alluded to wanting more of me. I am processing this ask. Weighing the option of you possibly staying by me with the option of you definitely leaving. It’s hard to know which part of life I am meant to keep up with. Harder still to pay attention when the world has tilted. Just slightly so that only you seem to feel the imbalance. Only you seem to stumble forward.

Anyhow, I do believe I am ready. To walk out there, exhale into life, and do well. Excuse me while I research ways to slow my heartbeat. You can’t hear it can you? Well, of course not, but if you stay still, I’m sure it’s there beneath the humming in my ​mind. You know? The drumming tone constantly reminding us that where we are now is as far as we’re going to get. We’d better stop trying so hard. You and I are not so different from each other. We are mistakes that could be wait-listed as long as we don’t try. If we bound our seclusion bubbles to the walls above this ever moving world we wouldn't get caught in its jaws. We’d clamber into the voids in our minds and we’d be free. Sounds inviting. I mean, not really; but safe. Not really that either, but it feels less up to chance.

I feel like I haven’t made much sense. I am fine above all things. The slight twitch of my right eye is likely from lack of rest. I sleep of course, but I prefer to use an odd schedule so that my nightmares don’t get accustomed to my routine. Who knows what day they’ll decide that my mess is just too much to stand by and watch. Who knows what they’d say if even they, the ones who steal your dreams and diminish your passions into a cruel dread, find that their job is complete.

By the way, has my performance been up to par? And are any adjustments needed? I would love some extra responsibilities to keep me weighed down so that I have no room to fall into absolution. If you need anything done, I’ll do it for you. I haven’t done so for myself, so all that is left is an overbearance to please you. Mirrors are covered where I stay, in hopes that their uncoverings will be as grand as their reflector. I am running to grant you my time because my safe spaces have denied me entry. In the sense that they might, should I attempt to occupy them. Self care, in theory, provides me enough solace. Excuse me while I come back to this later, there are important issues that require my attention and this area, I assure you, is under control.