Everything seems so far away as I stare out into the vast lake. Leaves of browns, yellows, and reds dance around me from the soft caress of the wind that only leaves me with a chill. I come back to reality as I tighten the fleece scarf around my neck. It was just summer a month ago where the blazing sun gave us warmth and brightness. Now it’s grey and cold, with long nights filled with wandering thoughts. It’s funny how quickly the seasons change, but that’s life I supposed.

I look out once more towards the lake before returning back to my small apartment. Hoping that the thoughts that plagued me would stay, and not return with me. As I pound my feet against the cold pavement, I briefly nod my head towards strangers who speak to me as we brush past one another. I can never hear what they say as they greet me politely with a smile on their face. One that I often never return as theirs time and again turn into something more sinister.

My therapist says I have a deep rooted paranoia stemmed from some childhood trauma that I’ve never been able to recover from. She thinks I believe that everyone is out to get me, and that with work I could overcome that trauma. Despite what she thinks, I know the truth. It is true that everyone is out to get me in some shape or form. That every encounter is premeditated with the hopes of taking something from me. The one thing I am desperate to protect. I’ve tried so many times to enlighten her on the real issue, but it’s like she never hears me when I say it.

Eager to get home, I briskly walk towards my apartment complex. It’s on the edge of the bad side of town where people rarely roam around after dark, and the street lights are due to come on at any moment. I curse myself as I stupidly lost track of time, and stayed out longer than intended. Longer than necessary…for me at least. See once the sun sets, I am no longer protected from those out to get me, unless I am at home safe where these strangers would not be able to cross the protected threshold of my apartment.

Calmly, I make my way through the front gate of my building, not wanting to draw attention to myself as the need to sprint assaults me. Once I’m outside my door, I hear the loud slow creaks of my neighbors opening their doors. My frozen hands fumble with the keys as I frantically try to get inside while they slowly walk towards me with those smiles. It is only when they are less than four feet away that I enter my apartment, slam the door shut, and lock it. Tears flow down my face as I crumble to the ground, and stare at the crack at the bottom of my door watching the shadows of their feet move closer until they block out the light from the hallway.

Image: No Image Credit, pulled from Google Images

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Bad Hair


Mornings Like This

A Winter Day