I open my eyes as a cold rush goes right through me.

Oh, not this again.

The plaster of my dirty white ceiling is staring at me, waiting patiently for my first move.

Oh, I know, I'm going to move this time.

One arm, two arms, one leg, two legs.

Headache.

Feet on the ground, I stare at my bed. I got you this time.

I open the window, fresh air comes in impatiently. It fills the room, leaving a nice smell.

But I can't feel it on my skin. It hasn't touched me. It looks at me in disgust.

I look up to the ceiling again, it's smirking at me.

I ignore it as something else grabbes my attention. The mint green walls are smiling warmly, they're inviting.

This isn't my room.

A flicker of light starts to grow in the corner of my eye, I turn around to see the hand in the wall, and I hold it in my own.

The light is almost blinding now, it's surrounding me as my tired eyes flicker too.

The usually very loud clock stops ticking.

I feel warm, the light is warm.

But it's only my head that's warm. I'm cold from the shoulders down, but it's fine.

I know what is happening, this isn't bad after all.

Time passes, but I forget about it.

My headache starts talking, what did it say?

It gets louder.

Time passes, but I forget about it.

The light, it's lovely.

My headache is roaring and screaming. It's shaking me by the shoulders, scratching my back, yelling for attention.

I finally decide to give it a chance, but I'm not happy about this.

It opens its mouth, but no sounds come out.

Can everybody hear it?

Or is it just me that does?

It starts to yell again, so I try to listen.

Stop

future

what

doing what?

stuff to do

friends, change

change that

family

change something

need.

It keeps yelling, but that's the most I can hear. I stop hearing.

I know these things,

I shrug them off.

Time passes, but I forget about it.

I feel so warm but my body isn't.

This is great.

My skin is freezing.

I'm having so much fun.

My organs are rotting inside of me.

I want more.

My head is a thousand degrees and my bones are crumbling. They are dust.

I love it.

Suddenly, I realise.

This isn't my room.

But it's too late.

The light starts decreasing, the warmth is fading,

my headache is nowhere to be found.

My body is lukewarm again and my eyes, dry as a desert, are closed.

I open my eyes as a cold rush goes right through me.

Oh, not this again.