Monday, or: Why am I still tired after 10 hours of sleep

From an old writing.com account of mine:

I looked for a door in the mirror this morning
prescriptions and band-aids stood in its place
I searched for an exit as I stared at myself
myself regarding the backwards me: he receded
all feelings of self awareness disappeared
and in that moment I considered existence
this episode seemed like a dream I'd had before,
but now less frightening than when it was subconscious
reality shook out a realization that was absent in sleep
being nobody is nothing more than being someone with nothing to say
not knowing how to express uniqueness I struggled to speak
I choked on my silence; my feet gave way beneath me
my knees stung on connection with faded linoleum
until finally my tongue tumbled out and words,
burning, crisp, necessary, inconsequential words
spilled onto the piss stained floor in a puddle