Walking home in a haze of confusion, of exhaustion. The sun is too bright, sadistic in its relentless rays of light and the tears it brings to weary eyes. People pass; they’re barely noticed. There are sounds: traffic, screaming children, streetcars closing and opening, the slap of a backpack against my hips. There are sounds and sights, but they are nothing now.
I just need to stop, and sleep.
The phone rings the moment I step inside. I’ve left work and I’m home; why are they calling? “Blah, blah, did you take these home, blah?” I want to cry. I say no. I turn off the phone.
I just want to sleep.
Day 328: Sleep – The Dandy Warhols