A Machine with Moving Parts

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 24, 2018

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Submitted: September 24, 2018

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Nowadays, every week of school lasts a month

Or, it feels that way at least.

I can get halfway through a Monday and it’s “been a long week”

So then, during the weekends, I try to gather myself, and readjust.

I train myself to keep my cool

But then it’s Monday again,

and I’m not prepared for anything

because I spent the mere few hours which are dressed up as a weekend

trying to calm down

regroup

and not boil over.

 

I have been doing so, so good,

and it’s one of the most heartbreaking things,

to be able to feel yourself deteriorating,

and going back to square one,

and getting worse,

and doing less,

and losing sleep. 

And you get this feeling in your stomach

Like when someone gives you bad news,

or like you’re scared,

except it doesn’t go away. 

It stays there for weeks,

and you leave for weeks

and some other, lesser thing has to run your body for you

until you can force yourself back. 

It’s like everything is cloudy,

hazy perhaps,

and you, as a person, are watching your entire life happen,

but your body is on cruise control.

It’s doing what it needs to.

It’s turning corners in hallways 

and dodging seniors 

and walking to class late 

and reading sheet music

and smiling at the janitors, and the counselors, and the principle

 

But your body has memorized all of the patterns, and does it for you.

Then you can still look normal on the outside.

Now, no one will ask any questions

And your brain is sitting inside of your shell body,

and it’s watching,

and listening,

and checking its archives

and responding to people accordingly.

But your person is not functioning as a whole.

 

It’s a machine with moving parts

doing what they can to get you through.


© Copyright 2018 Trinity Davidson. All rights reserved.

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