there was always something different about [], they experience the world in ways the others around them don't. or should I say worlds? but we're getting ahead of ourselves.

[] was adopted from a young age. they have no recollection of her time before that. at least nothing that makes any sense, it all just feels like the usual odd dreams with the occstional sleep paralysis. her psychologist, both child and current had told her it was classic dissociation she suffered with, likely due to whatever awful life she must of had before she was found. [describe how she was found, stumbling, or passed out somewhere at a young age). She hated these repressed memories. she's happy with her adoptive parents and the life they provided her, so why must a past she can't remember and doesn't even care to know, haunt her in her sleep. and why does she need, so. much. sleep?! She wonders if she needs to be reexamined for narcolepsy, but the doctor says it's depression, her therapist agrees and tacks on escapism, likely from unsolved trauma. of course, it is. no chance of resolving it, huh?

[] was exhausted from it all. so she packed a bowl and lit it up, the bubbling was like a siren song, calming, alluring. her head filled wth clouds. out of sight out of mind is what they say, yeah? what was she even worried about? her plants needed water, that was probably it. they feel dry.

her plants are fed, the vines that cover most of her home have been repositioned so she can reach her washing machine, and her iguana, [], has been put back in its tank after a day of free-roaming. all her chores have been done, so now she can finally get some much-needed rest. yeah, rest. . . she downs a cup of coffee she had cupped in her hands. dark circles engulfed her puffy emerald eyes, seemed dim, and felt so, so heavy. how could she sleep when he had no idea when she'd wake up next? her plants were dry for a reason, her ivy overgrown, her pet roaming. last time she laid down, she didn't wake up for 2 days. She feels like she falls into a coma every night. Gap in time plague her life, she's aging so fast she can barely has time to re-adjust to her own face.

you know, they say cats sleep 80% of their lives? maybe she should get a cat.. but she does worry about being eaten alive in her sleep. she probably wouldn't even feel it. it's not a normal sleep. it's as if she leaves her own body. like her dreams aren't just random scenarios playing in her unconscious mind, but somewhere far away, far far away from the body she knows. she reopened her iguanas tank... just in case.

she has a generator, she has an automatic timer for his food, now all she needs is a sprinkler system for her plants . . . and maybe an IV for herself.

I'm about to crash she thinks to herself before attempting to stagger to her bed. she doesn't make it.

she feels like she's floating, and it's not from the weed. no matter how good that shit is, it's not floating away from her body good.

it's dark

it's always dark at first. it feels and sounds like she's standing in an inch of liquid, but it doesn't feel wet. She can see her bare feet in what seems like miles and miles of a black sea surrounded in pitch-black darkness. well, not complete darkness, there is a glow. or what seems likes a glow. is it that she can see in the darkness and the only thing around to see is her, or is she is herself what's glowing? she can see her breath. it seems like a place that would feel cold, but she doesn't feel anything. She doesn't bother moving, she won't be here long.

i wonder how much time has passed

she gasps awake, her mouth completely void of moister, her cheek sore either from hitting the floor, or staying there for ho knowns how long. long, judging by the dry shards of her coffee cup scattered across the floor in front of her face. coffee long evaporated.

it snells like piss

probably her own.

she throws her palms to the floor trying to push herself up, but her entire body feel numb, aside from the pins and needles. she lays there in defeat, she feels like she was abandoned in a desert in the middle of no where and she's dying of dehydration. but she's in her apartment, and the hot desert sun is nothing more than all the UV bulbs she has to keep the other residents alive. she shuts her eyes, ready to accept her fate. until she hears the familiar little pidder padder of her little green friend. she tries again, palms to the ground and PUSH she slowly moves her knees underneath her for support and pushes herself up. panting like she just ran a marathon, feels, like she just ran a marathon, and chugs a glass of water that's been sitting on her livingroom sidetable for who knows how long. water she certainly needed, almost immediately rejected by her body.

ugh. . . how long have I been out?

she brings her wrist up to check her wat

FOUR DAYS?!

this isn't normal. this clearly isn't normal. she needs to find another arrangement. next time she could die, the entire house could. this isn't just depression, there's no way.

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