Emotion Sickness

E-motion sickness...
All my friends say
'Get up get up get up'

He woke from a recurring nightmare.

again again not again

Every time he walked outside the skies would close in around him, closer and closer until he was suffocating and the clouds pressed against his ribcage... every time he woke in a cold sweat.

Sunlight poured through the bedroom windows, not at all deterred by the drawn drapes.

get to the bathroom and wash, can’t let anyone see

He wiped his forehead and lowered himself delicately out of bed to the floor. He felt weak, but he knew

I can do this, I can do this

that he had to force himself into life. And as of now, all in this life that mattered was at the end of the hall, where he was dragging himself, quickly past any doors so as not to attract attention, and finally into the cold tile haven where he remained for a full half hour, rinsing himself over and over again.

When he came out he tried to slip unobtrusively down the hall once more, but this time someone noticed.

“Honey?”

damn

“You slept until 3pm sweetie.”

pet names, I fucking hate them

“I know.” He didn’t dare move any closer into the room. He wanted this conversation over with as soon as possible.

“Is...is anything...”

“No.”

no, I’m dead

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

alone, got to be alone, leave me

“Alone. Leave me alone!”

This sharp remark was all he needed to propel himself down the rest of the hallway, into his room, out of her reach, away from the rest. He sat down on the rumpled bed and switched on the television.



Evening.

The orange sun had dipped just below the tops of the trees.

A boy sat in his room.

The television had long been turned off, yet he sat in the same position he had been maintaining for three hours. He had developed a newfound fascination with the wallpaper of his bedroom. The designs became people, buildings, even whole cities before his eyes. And if he looked just the right way...

A knock at the door.

holy god what now

The door opened to reveal her with a plastic smile and a plate of food. “I brought you something to eat.”

The plate was placed gently on the table beside him. He looked away. She let her eyes rest on him for a few seconds, then she exited the room.

All this happened in complete silence.

He couldn’t do more than glance at the food: an apple, some bread, a few carrots, a glass of juice. It repulsed him.

I don’t need it

A reluctant trip to the kitchen resulted in his trying to dispose of the food in the most inconspicuous way possible. It ended up being shoved down the garbage disposal, which made a satisfying grinding noise as it chewed at the unwanted nourishment.

I did it

She caught him in the doorway on the way out.

“What did you do with it?” she asked, in a strangely mixed tone of sincerity and firmness. “I’ll fix you something else...”

He tried to shove her out of the way.

blocking my escape

but she was not to be moved. “I think I should know,” she continued, “what’s going on with you...I think I have a right to know; I’m your mother; you waste your food, sit in your room all day...I never see you anymore; I want to see you go out and enjoy yourself. Can you do that? Can you enjoy yourself?”

Silence.

“Can you, God damn it?”

The phone began to ring.

go away go away

She wasn’t answering it; she was letting it ring.

shut up shut up

“Shut up!” he shouted. “Shut the fuck up!”

It wasn’t her he was yelling at, but the phone, and he couldn’t stay in the room long enough to find out when she realized this. He covered his ears and emitted a noise, thought he wasn’t quite sure what noise it was.

no

He pushed her out of the way and ran to wherever his body was taking him. The door to his room was flung open and he went stumbling in, dragging the noises of the phone rings with him, despite the fact that they had already stopped. He collapsed onto the bed and began hitting a clenched fist into his stomach. By this time he had identified the noise he was making as a scream, and he got the sense that it would be all right, everything would be all right if only he never stopped screaming, never stopped slamming his perfect fist against the core of his pain.

Somewhere in the corner of his mind he heard a crash, and he knew his mother had thrown the phone to the floor

no more

more thumps and dull steps said she was moving rapidly down the hall towards him. He used the other hand, the one that wasn’t still working at his ribs, to ward off any attempted embraces.

she’s not here

but she was, his mother was leaning over him, trying to keep him from killing the pain and keep from crying, and repeating words that hung in a cloud over his head: “Please, honey, you’ve got to stop that, you’ve got to get up, please, you have to get up...”

get up get up get up

The sun had gone down, and the room was very dark.


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