Fingertips white, color gone due to my hands clentching too tightly. Long, bony, narrow, and thin; I hardly recognize these hands anymore. Slowly uncurling them; I see the indents my nails have made in my small palms. The blood begins to fill the absence of color beneath my skin, turning red then pink. My eyes begin to twich and my pupils dart back and forth fighting back the uncertainty I am about to endure. I am lost in the idea of being a single individual mixed in with the masses of bodies. I begin to realize I am alone, not understand what I alone would like to do to fill my time. I can not remember having so many hours to fill. I always remember never having enough. I return from work to sit at the edge of my bed not knowing what action I am to do next.
It is 5:00pm. Normally I would make dinner. There is no one to make it for anymore and I am never really that hungry at this time. Normally the television would be on with shows I hate but watch to please him. There is no mess to clean, no dirty laundry to attend to, not even errands to run. I am simply at a stand still. A useless sense of feeling. Like a robot that has no commands to follow. I forgot what I use to do. What did I do? What did I like? What were my passions? Where did I go?
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