1 day, 5 hours and 23 minutes.
Millions of breathes I have taken.
Billions of times I have blinked.
Hundreds of times that a passer by has stopped and looked up at the sky.
One time that a passer by has stopped and looked up at the sky and realised how good it is to be alive. Because the stars shine, the sun glares. Whilst thousands sat in terror, just that one girl was thanking life for letting her live.
And then the high is over.
I'm gasping, oh so quickly. I'm drowning in sweat, swimming in it. There are bugs, bugs, under my skin, I have to get them out, they are crawling, up, up, up into my my brain. I have to get them out, quickly quickly q u i c k l y. I try to get off the bed, but I'm surrounded by a thick, foggy, grey, smoke. I fall, and I'm surprised that I stop. I thought that I would hurl millions of millions of miles down, through my floor, through the ceiling, through the kitchen below me, through the floor again, and then be just floating. Content.
But I'm not. I'm laying on a grey carpet that was once purple, chosen out by 6 year old Chloe. I'm gasping, trying to fill my lungs with air, but that oxygen just evaporates into me as I try to swallow it down.
I look around me in slow misbelief. Pills strewn on the floor. A blade next to me. Cut it screams. CUT! I look at the pile of vomit in front of me. In look around in slow horror and start screaming, then crying, crying crying crying like the tears will never stop. I sit up and glare into the camera lens.
"Cut! Oh Chloe, darling, that was just perfect! You're selling it sweetie!"
"Thanks Rob," I say. I'm tired and just want to GO HOME.
I amble over to where my coat and bag is, and slowly slip put of the entrance titled ACTORS ONLY. That's me.
The cold air hits me like a twenty tonne truck. It's nice compared to the hot warm glare of the lights in the studio.
And I slowly start to walk home.