Headwall

5 Feb

I sat down in front of my locker and didn’t get up. I left my laptop bag in the little metal box in front of me, balanced precariously on the miniscule lip at the edge. I couldn’t have cared less at that point. Or rather, I definitely did care, but I was unable to do anything about it.

Remember about layered promises, whoever I told that to? It was Ivy or M or maybe even Tony. Promises to yourself layered so thick that you can’t help but do something. It’s that type of responsibility that kept my head down from where it had travelled, unbeknownst to me, to rest on the top of my backpack. Because at that point, my body did genuinely need rest- and I had no will left to resist, because it had taken that away along with everything else.

I actually have no idea how long I sat there, dozing just like I told M I do in the shower sometimes. (Head to porcelain versus head to plastic- not much of a difference.) I know I left the fitness centre between four and five, and I know it was still between four and five when I left, but that leaves maybe a forty minute margin of error, judging from how long my workout was.

That was so stupid I thought I was just sluggish because I hadn’t stretched a good solid four days in a row.

On that note, I can’t tell how much of this is because I pushed my muscles too much and how much is just because I’m damn close to sick, even if I’m not. (I need a good hourlong massage, no matter which has the majority of the blame.)

I’m not going to throw up. My throat is not actually sore- it just feels like it does when I don’t blow my nose for a while. I did this morning, and nothing seemed different from any other dry, wintry Vermont day. I am feeling weak and having soreness all over my body, but I am almost absolutely certain that that is because I ran two and a third more miles today than I should have (not to mention the almost–or-more-than-five days earlier this week). Finally, I can’t tell if I have a headache. As a rule, I do not get headaches. With all of this fatigue, it’s difficult to tell, but the last time I got one was at a seventh-grade dance. (Where I demonstrated that my lungs could outblow anyone in the room – including females, who did join in – at a screaming contest. If I still could, Sierra would have a run for her money. Honestly, if I ever manage to figure out how to properly use my vocal chords, I’ll have a good chance of winning.)

The workout was okay, in retrospect. I ploughed through the curtains of sleep loss draped all around me and ran a good solid distance, with a proper warmup (and a not-so-proper cooldown). I pushed myself to the limit and did make it to seventy-five, benching just over twenty kilos (I’m doing endurance).

And when I finally got up, I did make it all the way to the spot that I normally wait for the late bus until I collapsed again, this time for the rest of the almost-hour I had left.

Ross likes Carbon Leaf and Pretty Lights – especially Torn to Tattered and Solamente, respectively. I wanted to show him more, but not only was my body not moving, I just wanted quiet.

Allandra was being all protective, and that made me feel a tiny tiny bit better. …But not only was my body not moving, I just wanted quiet.

Life Less Ordinary has a knack for showing up at the most appropriate moments and making me realise how much I miss her. She was being playful tonight… And really, what I said to her is true, but I’ll extend; I’d lose any amount of sleep just to be with her longer.

It’s an issue that we’d planned to meet this weekend.

By the way, I do know why you stayed away- I will keep tongue-tied next time…

I’d like to add some sort of insightful analysis or something witty, but really the most I can manage at this point is flopping into bed.

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