0210AM;

I am awakened by an itch in my throat, I start coughing, I cannot catch my breath.

The coughs turn into split seconds of me gasping for air, and within 10 seconds they turn into – what do you call that impulse right before you throw up?

And in the next 5 seconds, I am grateful all I had for dinner was a small bottle of vitagen.

Ain’t nobody got time to clean up that mess in the middle of the night, had I eaten a proper meal.

 

Fear, trembling, vulnerability. Cluttered thoughts.

How do I do this?

With the lights still turned off I stare into darkness for half a minute – too taken aback by what just happened to even respond properly – then I snap back to reality and drag myself out of bed to clean up that stupid mess.

 

Gone were the days where I could knock on my dad’s door with tears in my eyes and tell him what happened, and have him help me do everything huh?

You’re alone now, Jo. Learn how to adult.

But I want to cry. I feel so weak. I feel like I cannot do this. I feel so alone.

No, Jo, the longer you leave the mess the harder it gets to clean up.

Fine. I’ll clean it up.

 

With sleepy eyes and trembling hands, I do the best I can to make my room look like how it was two hours ago.

I stumble to the bathroom, I wash my face. I stare at myself in the mirror.

How did a moment of peacefulness an hour ago before I went to bed turn out to be something like – this?

 

No I cannot stare in the mirror anymore. It’s too… traumatising. I don’t even know if that’s the right word.

I drag myself back to my room, and I sit on the edge of my bed.

 

My room probably smells really badly, my sensory organs have most likely stopped receiving warning signals that I am in the presence of a stink bomb. I should open that perfume bottle I only use for special occasions and spray it into every single corner of my room.

But no, no,

I am tired.

 

And I don’t know why, but I realise that in these moments,

I need God the most.

I turn on my Spotify playlist,

I weep like a little child in front of a Father.

 

 

0224 AM;

“when darkness seems to hide His face, I rest on His unchanging grace. “

 

And rest I will indeed.

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