Just as I'm wondering what I should write. For my shrink to see, or me to look back on in the future, or the billions of people surfing the worldwideweb who are not reading this. Just as I'm wondering what to write I see it, the brandy glass. My mom must have put it on my bedside table, and she's filled it with roses. The last of the year too, since the weatherman has decreed that a frost is coming tonight to kill everything that is pink, and red, and yellow, and blue, and sunshine, and warmth. But she brought the last roses inside, to me.
All I can do is stare at the water that's humming through the glass to me. I know my mild, fuzzy, just out of the corner of your eye hallucinations are just that. But they still scare me. I want to tell myself it's because I haven't been sleeping. I want to tell myself it's because my body is still adjusting to the new stronger medication. I want to tell myself it's because I haven't eaten a proper meal in at least a week. I want to tell myself it's all of those things, all of those things but not me. It couldn't be me. I pray that it isn't me. But the water in the brandy glass full of end of the year roses still hums. And I don't look away.
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