leaving

She got up and fed her headache some coffee, like every morning.  She didn't have the grounds and coffee thing figured out quite right, or maybe she didn't even like coffee.  There wasn't really enough time to think about it.  Not sure what it was that was taking her an hour and a half to get ready every morning, she took slow steps down the stairs in her fuzzy slippers and turned on the shower.  

She got lost in the shower every morning.  I mean, the thing is a small white cube with one way in and one way out, but her thoughts ran fluidly.  Like the water, they could either sooth her or scald her.  There seemed to be no control over them.  They flooded her head.  

Differentiating between real life and thoughts hardly ever seemed to be a threatening problem, but often she wondered if they changed her actions in any way.  The conclusion reached was always that there is no real unit of measurement for that sort of thing, and then she'd just move on until the next day the thought surfaced.

As she finished lining her eyes with her "very black" eye liner she remembered a piece of her dream from the night before.  Always curious as to why it took sometimes days, sometimes minutes to remember a dream- she tried to recall it as much as possible.  Although it was pointless to try to figure out why there was a protective cow named Daisy in her dream, she would write it in her journal later that day.  Unless she forgot it completely- which often happened as well.

Her life wasn't pointless, right? I mean in a little bit, like every day, she would wash away the evidence of her addiction and put the mug in the dishwasher.  Her movements were as predictable as the fact that her roommate's alarm would go off as she walked out the door.  She would wrinkle her nose in jealousy, and no one would see it.  She knew that after she passed the house with the barking dogs, turned at the corner by the house with the sprinklers still going, the lady with the blazing red hair would mumble a good morning response.  And a few blocks down, as the man in the blue blazer passed, she would smile and it would go unacknowledged.  

She imagined it was going to be a disappointing day, with too much thought involved. Yet, just as she passed the man in the blue blazer, as a red leaf fell on the plate of cookies she carried to her grandma's dingy nursing home room, she knew it'd be alright.

Fo' sho.