The best thing my dad ever did for me was fuck off to Iceland.
Content Warning: Suicide ideation
You feel your eyes open and see nothing but the inside of your head; a distorted howl gallops over you. A sliver of light splits your vision and a dim glow leaks through the cracks. You feel your eyes close; the light hesitates. You know you’re breathing. The sweat on your back sticks you to your sheets and anchors you down. Your limbs are hollow and disconnected. The room twirls slowly like a music box and your breath bubbles. You can feel the density of the air press you and keep you held in position. The night sounds heavy through your cracked window. A gurgle grows from your stomach and wanders up until it leaks out your parted lips. They are dry. A film slides across your tongue. You spread it to your lips and wait as your breath peels it back off. The room keeps moving.