No One Coming Down the Hallway
Photo owned by Giulia Baptista on Pexels I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling until my eyes bleed red. I’m not thinking anymore—I’m spiraling. Drowning in the ghost of good days that died more than two years ago. I secretly wish I could crawl back to how things were, but my pride is a stubborn bastard that won't let me ask for mercy. I stare at the cracks in the plaster and loop the same bad tape. What if I hadn't made those stupid, ugly mistakes? Would life be lighter now? Could I have kept my skin intact instead of losing everything, including whatever was left of myself? The path I picked is getting colder and lonelier by the hour. I chose it, sure, so I don't get the right to sit here and bleed, but where the hell is the light everyone keeps promising at the end of the tunnel? Why can't I swallow the brutal truth that nobody is coming down this dark hallway to save me? It’s just me. My cat sleeps at the foot of the mattress. My extended family moves around the c...
