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Everything is Fine (#Scintilla13)

I rattle the bottle. The clickity clack sound lets me know exactly how far I have to go. I shake it again, and watch the clock. Every two hours. As long as it’s every two hours everything is fine. No sooner. Everything is fine.

I lean back and inhale the smoke. Cigarettes help. They reach down inside and grab the heart, squeezing it harder and harder. I can feel the blood in my forehead as it hammers through. Everything is fine.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm breaks the quiet. I shake the bottle. I let it slide down my throat. Two hours isn’t so bad. I reset the alarm. Everything is fine.

I forgot to eat lunch again. It’s almost six. My hands shake at the keyboard. I have hours left to go. Maybe I should get dinner. I tip the bottle back instead. I’m not hungry. Everything is fine.

It’s already too late when I get home to do anything. I should just go straight to bed. Everything is fine.

I can’t sleep. I’m too wired, too bouncy. I just need a little help. A different bottle this time. I slosh it back. Everything is fine.

Midnight turns into four am and I am up, showered, dressed and ready to head out the door. I double up. I just need the extra pick me up to get going. Everything is fine.

Breakfast comes from a gas station. So does the bottle. They couldn’t sell it at a gas station if it was really bad for you. I buy a four pack. It’s going to be another long day in a long week. Everything is fine.

I step on the scale. I’m down another 5 pounds. I’m still 100 pounds overweight. I should do more. I rattle the bottle. It’s been two hours, right? Everything is fine.

I can barely recognize the mirror. I think I’m losing my hair. I should get a special shampoo. I have cheek bones. That means it’s working. Everything if Fine.

I ate breakfast, I can skip lunch. Did I eat dinner? I can’t remember. I’m not hungry. Everything is fine.

Grocery store blood pressure machines aren’t accurate. It’s got to be broken. Everything is fine.

The new boss thinks I’m overworking myself. I show her I can keep going and do more. The bottle is empty again. Where is the new one? Everything is fine.

No.

Seriously.

Everything is fine.

Published by M.A. Brotherton

M.A. Brotherton is a writer, blogger, artist, and fat-kid from the suburbs of Kansas City, Missouri. He’s tasted a little bit of everything the Midwest has to offer, ranging from meth-tweaking rednecks in massive underground cave complexes to those legendary amber waves of grain. When he’s not writing, he spends most of his time screwing around on the internet.

11 thoughts on “Everything is Fine (#Scintilla13)”

  1. Brandee says:

    Damn! This is excellent, Matt!

  2. Jason Benoit (@jinxingwinks) says:

    I hear ya brother. I used to buy those little bottles and everything was fine for me too, except it wasn’t.

  3. Shannon W (@scwink) says:

    Really fantastic. I wanted to grab your hands, your shoulders, to look in your eyes, to tell yes, it – and you – are okay.

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      Things are much, much better now.

  4. Tracy Ann Mangold says:

    I’m glad things are better now, Matt. You put us right there with you and that is an incredible thing. Scary. But incredible.

    1. M.A. Brotherton says:

      Thanks, Tracy. Scintilla is a wonderful project because it brings out so much great writing.

Comments are closed.