Page 130 of Anything But Lonely

But I don’t know.

The thought should scare me.

It doesn’t.

I’ll get up soon.

I know I will.

Just not yet.

My phone had been vibrating somewhere beside me, the sound cutting through the fog every so often before fading away again. It cuts through the music I have playing, needing to fill the silence with something.

At first, I knew it was someone trying to reach me.

Mateo, probably.

Maybe Ava or Rumi.

Or Jack.

Someone checking in.

It’s constant, begging for my attention.

Part of me wants to find the source.

But the other part of me—the stronger part—doesn’t let me.

It feels like one arm is reaching while the other fights to keep it still.

An inner battle I don’t have the power to win.

So I just stop.

Stop fighting.

Stop wondering.

Stop caring.

Until eventually, guilt wins out.

Not enough to get out of bed.

Not enough to call anyone.

Just enough to reach blindly toward my phone and send the words I know will make everyone leave me alone.

I’m okay. Just exhausted. I think I’m coming down with something.

A lie.

But not completely.

Because I am exhausted.

I am sick.