I can't whistle anymore.
I try again, pursing my lips together and pushing a breathe out, but they only pucker uncomfortably. I can feel the swollen edge under my tongue. I am avoiding mirrors, because if I look in one I feel obligated to examine my mouth. I stick out my bottom lip like a stubborn child and look at the whiteness of the skin that has been chewed raw. I always expect it too look bloody and red, but it is pale like the belly of a dead fish. I've been gnawing at it for a week now. I can't decide if it's a bad habit like I told my mother or if I really do like the pain of my teeth sinking into the skin.
Whistle-less tune abandoned, I trace my key card along the edge of the paint on the stairwell wall. It's a dare I play with myself, because if I keep my eyes on the card then I can't see my feet. I climb three stories doing this, skipping my hand over the windowsills along the way.
The stairwell door makes a hushed sound as it closes behind me. It reminds me of all the people asleep at this hour, all breathing in and out in slumber. It's overwhelming to think that the building could be so quiet with so many here, the halls packed with 40, 50 students each. It is so empty.
Is it possible to go insane and be aware of it?
I try again, pursing my lips together and pushing a breathe out, but they only pucker uncomfortably. I can feel the swollen edge under my tongue. I am avoiding mirrors, because if I look in one I feel obligated to examine my mouth. I stick out my bottom lip like a stubborn child and look at the whiteness of the skin that has been chewed raw. I always expect it too look bloody and red, but it is pale like the belly of a dead fish. I've been gnawing at it for a week now. I can't decide if it's a bad habit like I told my mother or if I really do like the pain of my teeth sinking into the skin.
Whistle-less tune abandoned, I trace my key card along the edge of the paint on the stairwell wall. It's a dare I play with myself, because if I keep my eyes on the card then I can't see my feet. I climb three stories doing this, skipping my hand over the windowsills along the way.
The stairwell door makes a hushed sound as it closes behind me. It reminds me of all the people asleep at this hour, all breathing in and out in slumber. It's overwhelming to think that the building could be so quiet with so many here, the halls packed with 40, 50 students each. It is so empty.
Is it possible to go insane and be aware of it?
