There's a snake draped across my shoulders. The poor thing.
He's heavy. He's weighing me down and he's wrapped around my throat and he's invisible. I can't get him to leave. I might name him.
My heart is warbling. Water isn't helping today.
My fingers are stiff and painful and weak. I think I'll cinch my braces up too tight so that they go numb.
The worst of it all is my own mind. The snake feeds off of it, squeezes tighters, grows heavier.
"Just tired."
Yeah.
It's not a lie, but it's not the truth either. But all you can give is sympathy, and I don't want it. It doesn't help, and I don't want you to worry.
"Tired. I feel like the world is balanced across my shoulders. I'm just going through the motions. I want to curl up and sleep and never get up. It's so hard to get up these days. I can't find a reason. I've lost my spirit. I'm not sure if the snake ate it, or if it is the snake.
But there's nothing you can do because I can't trade my brain in for a different one. I can't trade my body away. I'm stuck with me, and I am ridiculous. Stupid. Worthless. Unoriginal. Naive. Childish. Whiny. Selfish. Stupid, so damn stupid. Unskilled. Just a waste of time, a waste of space, a waste of a friend.
I'm drowning in it all. Chained in the dark in a cave at the bottom of the ocean. I suppose the snake might be an eel, then.
Just another day.
There's always tomorrow.
Always another day.
And another.
And another.
Another.
Another.
Another.
Can I just... stop? Please?
Can I just quit? Can I take my final bows and be finished? Let the curtains close. A worthless effort. One last concert alone, playing everything I've ever learned. I'll drop my bow at least twenty times. I'll crack my thumbs while trying to play and I'll let my hand drop to my side during a pause because my fingers ache. They cramp up. They light themselves on fire. And then I'll finish. That was just one song. One song is all I can manage. And then I'll take a bow and leave. I'll be done. Finished.
Please.
"You'll be fine!"
"Chin up! Your fingers are just weak. Just practice more!"
"You're just making it up as an excuse to get attention, aren't you?"
My brain is worse than my fingers, than the snake. They can stay, I don't care. I can deal with them. But let me escape from my mind. Please.
Please.
I still have so much I have to do today. So many things I am supposed to do, so many things I should do. Things I think I want to do.
But the snake is heavy and squeezing, my fingers are deteriorating, my mind is as numb as my fingers will soon be.
I can't.
But I must. I have to.
I just don't know why anymore.
I think I'll stop for a little while. Just for a bit. I'll cinch my braces and go to sleep for a bit.
Maybe I'll name the snake when I get up.