Day 1

2:43

The day started with the opening of my eyes. It was then that I decided that my day would begin at 2:43 in the morning, sitting in a old creaky wooden chair, surrounded by mass amounts of paper and yellow sticky notes from "yesterday". It wasn't the most luxurious table, mostly round and full of holes from the previous tenant. Given to me for free from the man at the Unk yard. I focused, grabbing a sticky note and wiped my hand down my face, breathing in a sigh as I brushed my dark black hair from my eyes. Sunday: full of potential? More tired than usual. Consult the medication from the mirror cabinet. 2:43am. I placed the sticky note meticulously on the wall, right next to the other 561 pieces of square yellow paper scattered across it. I measured this recently. 8ft high, 7ft long, and 2ft away from my circular "dining room table".

I shuffled to the bathroom and banged my head on the low doorway to my already tight bathroom without (surprisingly) flinching. I don't even try to bend down anymore, its too much work. The bathroom was obviously made for a small toddler, only holding enough room for a broken mirror, a faded pink toilet and a sink full of clogged water. It was exhausting to look at, and I didn't appreciate it even if some had it worse than me. I then stopped in front of my reflection and held a gaze with myself. Each eye was hazel, grey and yellow, seemingly like a dusty cloud storm in the desert. And  each strand of my hair was raven black, and my skin was still dull and lacking any emotion. I wrote it on my sticky note, set the clock in my bathroom to the correct time, and took my meds. Third day running with no sleep, I thought, grabbing my sticky note again. Third day? Only the beginning to my new personal record. I smiled, the first one in a while, and stuck it in the middle of the dispensable mirror.