It’s four in the morning, almost five.

I’ve been silent for the past week or so, on here and in person. The people I least expected to take my silence as ignorance have branded me as negligent and ungrateful for their existence. I’ve told myself every time it has happened that abandonment is a natural part of life. It’s just how things are. However, the rate at which it has and still is happening is quite painful. It’s having someone stomp on your spine as you’re trying to get up. Perhaps there’s something I’m doing wrong. I’ve become incredibly self-conscious and insecure with the words I say and the actions I perform.

My vision’s become a blur and my moves are automatic—I don’t feel as if I’m in control. My days are routine. I’m awake when the people in my life are asleep and asleep when they are awake. There are times where I don’t sleep at all. I can’t help but feel as if I’m slowly fading out of the lives of those around me. I’m anxious, yet calm. Afraid, yet composed.

I hope this is simply a phase, a test.