My nose has been running a lot lately. Whether or not this has anything to do with my current mental state has yet to be decided, but it does feel like my brain is dripping out of my skull at times. I stay up until three in the morning; usually, and then sleep until the alarm tears my mind from its peaceful dreams. Or until it doesn’t, and I get a call from my boss saying I’m an hour late to my opening shift. Either way, pulling my body out of warm sheets is a lot harder than it used to be. Customers begin to pile up in my dining room, cars wrap around the building, and suddenly I’m struggling to hold onto my breath. I find myself hyperventilating in the walk-in freezer.

Dishes pile up in the sink and I can tell Tori is pissed. But still I drown out the pain with the strings of my guitar. Capo pulled up tight, hands trembling with each strum. I hold firm, to my guitar, and to the promise of a light at the end of this stygian tunnel. But my vision is hazed over. I look behind me, nothing. I look in front of me, still nothing. What I wouldn’t give to silence the turmoil that is my consciousness.

But Sunday gives way to yet another Monday. Then Tuesday rolls around and it feels like another Monday. And so it goes on. Anxiety cripples, but people still want their sandwiches. My mom still wants me to go to church. Tori wants me to clean the apartment. But I, I want to crawl back into my bed, to sleep ‘till a day when I can wake up truly happy.

My shoulders ache from the weight Atlas has left for me to bear. I’ve stopped looking in the mirror for fear of seeing Narcissus staring back at me. The rivers of my life converge at the Styx, leaving me at the mercy of Hades, to foot the bill myself. I pray to Heracles to come kill this eagle gnawing at my liver, and to finally set me free…

Apotheosis of Washington