I set the glass of water down on my nightstand and sit on the bed. The yellow quilt is soft under my hand, its patterns swirl and dance beneath my fingertips. The walls shimmer and move, the pills are already taking effect. I can’t look at the pictures anymore, the faces are too real, and they hurt so much. I stare at my hands, at the nightstand, back at my fingers.

They twitch a little bit, and I hold them up in front of my face. I fall backwards onto the bed and can’t help but laugh. I move myself so I’m laying with my face against the pillow. Ah, pillow, it’s so cool and soft. My hands and feet are already sleepy, and my eyes are starting to droop. I can’t just leave the lights on, it’ll run the electricity bill up. I stumble out of bed, shamble over to the lightswitch, flip it off.

Oh no, where’s my bed? I crouch, then crawl until I find it. I pull myself up onto it, and shrug the covers up over me. Just like going to sleep. I think, letting the pills wash over me. My eyes close, never to open again.