Love it Jess! Reblogging.
It was worse than ever that morning as you climbed out of the duvet cocoon, its comfort superficial but desperately appreciated, and the despair hit straight away. A tidal wave – no, too clichéd, you preferred to think of it as a syrupy, dripping liquid which seeped further and deeper into your pores with every movement, rapidly enough to overwhelm you in an instant but languidly enough to make you feel its burning stickiness creeping over and permeating every muscle and cell.
You couldn’t remember the last thing you’d eaten, the last thing you’d done before you went to bed. Had you brushed your teeth the night before? Who knows. But you knew how many of the little pills you’d taken, and the length of time their uplifting effect had lasted. Not as long as the last time. And not really that uplifting either.
It’s ironic, isn’t it, you whispered…
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