Robotic

Four days in and I feel I've been consumed by this holiday madness. Hours running into hours, days running into days. Day and night no longer transcend from one to the other, they merely crash into each other to blend one whole, dim life. My surroundings a watercolour painting, lacking detail and sustain. It feels I'm collapsing in my own shoebox diorama - the show must stop. My once neat little world has been catapulted into disarray.

Working. Hours of standing, dusting, greeting, speaking, packing and pretending to be human. I don’t care about these people.
Recreation. Laying in my room crying with the television on, wanting him to be my own, not hers. Why her?
Sleeping. Tossing and turning in nightmarish convulsions, rapping my raw, red knuckles against the bed post until my father hears and comes to see what all the noise is.

Is this life? Just drifting through the stages, lifeless, doing things without thinking because they’ve been keyed into us like a machine? If I walk, I don’t know where I’ll end up.

And I'm so afraid.
Somebody, please.

Help me.