#but now i've been drawing since halloween and i'm getting ready to come back slowly

[annaklover]

Halloween 5 Minute Writing Prompt:

I was awakened from my slumber by the sound of a car alarm. Seemingly every bloody morning my neighbor from the flat below me hits the panic, not the unlock on his car. You would think my idiot neighbor would know how to unlock his vehicle. My alarm is going off on the side table.  I haven't had the luxury of using it since he got his new vehicle. I am already up, and loathing it all. I begrudgingly shut it off and head into the bathroom, and get ready for work. A night full of night terrors, again. I never totally recall them if I'm startled awake. I don't know if I want that insight into my mind anyways. At least I am awake now.  I finish my 5-minute meditation and grab for a daily affirmation card. 'Your life is a reflection of your soul, what side of the mirror are you on?'  Wow, ground breaking. 

My routine is mundane and dare I say, routine. It is the only thing normal to me in my life.  I'll turn on the salt lamp to start with a softer light. Ease into whatever the day may bring.  Bathroom break, dress, teeth, and initial hair brushing out in the semi darkness. I can see the counter, and the items I need, bit not much else.

My first steps into the bathroom and my slippers are crunching over debris on the darkened floor.  I must have got up and slept walk and decided to eat crisps on the bathroom floor, again. I make a mental note to clean it all up before I leave for work. No wonder I'm single. Who wants a sleep walking/eating banshee as even a roommate, much less a mate. And that's just the quirkiness of night. 

Slowly bringing myself around to that 'first day of the rest of my life' crap my cards keep telling me about. Those cards are always the same mushy positive crap day in and day out. But, I've done them daily for 13 years now. My mind goes from the trauma that triggered my use of the cards, to the flashes from my dreams. Are they connected? I'm sure somewhere deeply inside my grey matter they are. I reflect on what I could remember of dreams, it's not much, as I'm pulling the brush through the thick curls. I shouldn't have brushed it last night. I was too exhausted to attempt it last night. Come to think of it, I didn't take remove my eye make-up either, so I probably look extra rolled up and put away wet. I'm not going over, but it sure feels like it, and everything hurts. Reality was going to be rough today. It feels like it's been Tuesday for a lifetime. 

It was time to face the music, and see how much work it was going to take to give me the appearance of a functional being. I reach with my right hand to flick on the overhead lights. My face automatically raises up towards where the lights are. I am instantly blinded. Hands slamming into the counter to steady myself and fighting back a headache of the bright light. As my eyes slam shut, I'm bombarded with noises from the bustling city below. When will I learn not to repeat the same things every morning? 

I'm looking down at the counter, letting my eyes adjust. It's a daily struggle. My fingers finally come into focus. The noises and voices from below fade into the background once more. I note the slight bluish-purple of my nail bed. I should at least put forth the effort and polish them. It would cover that up. Anything to draw attention away from the not normal of myself. 

I glance up. My hair looks like every electrocuted cartoon, ever. Time to get serious with it. I start pulling products from the drawers to tame this mess. I don't want to heat treat it. Mornings, and hot things near my face bring flashes of last night's dreams to the forefront of my brain. As fast as it was there, it's gone. I hate my brain. I shake away the remaining cobwebs. As I to see if there is progress, my reflection smirking back in the mirror. Why? It's not humorous at all. I don't feel the smirk on my own face. My face morphs to disgust my body conveys as I begin to reach for the flat iron. 

I can see in the mirror as I reach I dribbled toothpaste on my shirt again. Damn. I look down, don't see it. Grabbing all over where I swore I just saw it. I'm probably seeing things, it was a rough night. I'm not losing my mind. I look back to the mirror to see if I can locate it there, and I'm looking at myself, nothing is there. I run my hands over my face and pray silently I'm not going crazy, I'm already partially numb to the thought. 

Reaching over to the now hot iron, I see my reflection head cocked, and smirking again. Not reaching at all! I was almost fine and willing to brush it off, until I am watching what I thought was my reflection, blink. Suddenly, everything is dark,  I hear glass clinking to the countertop and finally to the floor. 

I was awakened from my slumber by the sound of a car alarm...