Second Day- Weakened. Vulnerable.

The first night was uncomfortable, albeit exhausting. 

I laid down in bed on the thin pillow and closed my eyes, entering another layer of darkness. As if being deaf didn't already have a layer of silence and darkness. 

Eyes shut, AC fanning my hot face, silence accompanies me. 

Sleep. 

Sleep will not take me. 

Huffing, I tossed and shifted to the side exasperatedly. 

Eyes still shut. 

Heat hugged me closely. 

Sighing, I stare into the darkness, eyes still shut. 

Sleep will not take me. 

I repeat in my head. 

What was that Latin phrase again?

I know this quote was in Latin, but what was the phrase? How was it said again?

Loneliness weighed heavily in my stomach. 

Homesickness. 

I don't feel strong. 

I feel like if I share that feeling, I'd be seen as weak. 

I FEEL weak. 

I feel stuck in the ocean. 

Drowning. 

I can't bring myself to say ''I'm lonely, help me.''

Distract me. 

''Then, God you showed me the truth of this life.''

This happened yesterday, except only then I had three hours to kill. 

This time, four. 

I want to shower. 

To feel cooler, better, perhaps, less stinky in sweat. 

But the shower isn't appealing. 

My neighbour could come at any minute.

She, too, makes me want to move rooms. 

(I realise that this was irrelevant. She has no part in how I felt. I just merely wanted to leave, I suppose.)

Exhausted. 

How can I ask for a beautiful conversation without bothering anyone?

How do I not cry?

How do I survive?

At last, I have my phone, yet no words flow through the screen. 

I'm trapped. 

Do I tell my closest friend?

No, it seems weak. 

Makes me appear vulnerable. 

What would she think of me?

THUNK

She is either back or leaving. 

I mean Lacy... or Lacie... 

Whichever. 

THUNK

I do not know what goes on outside. 

Glancing at my phone. 

No notification. 

Please, talk to me. 

Lie to me.

Say you know how I feel. 

Say you want to talk to me.

Please. 

Say something. 

Silence. 

I stare at my dark room, cupboard door half opened; deep blue curtains drawn half shut, prayer mat lies folded in the direction of God's House. 

Am I being ridiculous?

Reading back to my pages of my solemn words, feels ridiculous and somewhat laughable. 

That is how I feel?

Too personal. Too open to share.