Today I woke up on the wrong side of the bed in what felt like a creepy kind of dream state. When I shifted the curtains and squinted at the daylight, I cursed the world realizing it was time to get up. The previous night's overdose of cold medicines had given me a ferocious headache and left my mind locked into its foggy prison. I rolled over to my nightstand and reached for the wadded up tissue in hopes the release would allow air through my left nostril once more. I pulled myself up and fumbled for the aspirin, which I choked down with the last stale drops from an old water bottle. I dragged my feet into the shower, but after deciding the process entailed an unmanageable amount of effort, I hopped out without ever turning the water on. I made it from the freezing torture chamber and went to the mirror. I gagged as I brushed my teeth and then pulled on the nearest jeans and sweatshirt. I returned to my still snoring boyfriend to shoe him out the door, but not before he insisted on inhaling his morning medicine. I finally gathered my things, left my mind inside the Nyquil bottle, and out the door I went. Poor me.
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