a.d.h.d. and depressiona.d.h.d. and depression2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes
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sometimes i will wake up in the morning and look out from my eyes; two small, imperfect telescopes transporting me into the world. my room is bright with tender brushstrokes of light, and everything seems to have a sterile feeling. a safe feeling.
i will get up with my arms and legs buckling like a doe's, delicate and beautiful but compromised. i will brush the wisps of blonde hair from my face, and yawn. yawning, i think, is lovely. it is such a delicate force; able to be stopped but worthwhile in the end.
i hate it when people stop themselves from yawning.
i will float through my house, tripping lightly down the uneven, warped stairs. i will tread on the carpet covering the visible memories of a dog.
i will breathe.
i rest my head on the clear pane of glass made solely to protect; the bus goes over a pothole and dances in a violent, rhythmic way that leaves my stomach churning. i don't feel very safe.
all around me, people are living their lives constantly in reality. the young