As I Lay Me Down

[Somersault]

((ADELE JONES - TRIP START))

The ceiling was white, plain, a mass of empty expanse that she could do nothing to except stare, the snoring of her roommates an uncomfortable rumbling in her mind. The jittering was back again, the thrumming in her limbs which went pump pump. Each time her eyes closed, they would only remain so for a few seconds, before they snapped open again and she was once again greeted with the vision of vast ivory.

Why were white things always so shitty? That was the question Adele really wanted to ask. Wouldn’t have changed anything about her situation, anything about the fact that she wanted to sleep and wanted to run all in the same thought, though, a start-stop cycle of boom and bust that left her listless. She was here, and she couldn’t change that, and she couldn’t change the fact that her body refused to let her take her rest, one more good night’s rest before coming back home to Mom, Dad, and Nadia. Just a bit more sleep before she’d have to take another look at aid options, part-time job openings close to Vandy. Just a bit more of being cool, being fun, and being chill, no worries and no cares.

As soon as she thought those thoughts, she frowned. Adele knew it was stupid to think like that, that what she was thinking were plain old lies. The problems would be there regardless of whether she tried to wish them away, pretend that being away would cause them to disappear. Just like how firing at targets, or dancing, or marching in as many rallies as she could would never get rid of that throbbing feeling, the shake in her hands, the fuzziness in her head.

Fighting for others’ futures meant that there was less and less time to define her own.

She turned over onto her side and tried some measure of inner peace, breathing in and out, in and out. The day, the one preceding this sleepless night, and been largely good, she thought. She had gone around, gone out with the girls, even got some souvenirs to bring back to everyone. The bobbleheads were sitting right there in her bag, buried under hurriedly packed clothes and shoes, piled up on top of each other like the unsteadiest Jenga tower in existence. It was okay, though, because Adele had noticed that. She’d get to that. Just as soon as she was done laying here, unable to sleep and unwilling to move. It’d be cool. It’d be handled.

Maybe though, the best way to handle it was to just go get up and try to get something moving, some blood pumping, a for her just to feel like herself, not herself with two-hundred pounds on top. She knew how to handle her weight, thank you very much, because a lifetime of swimming helped a bish manage that, but that didn’t make all of this any better, when she needed all of this to get better very, very soon. Was there a coffee machine in the room?

There wouldn’t be, she wasn’t about to go off deluding herself, but the thought that there might be one encouraged her to get out of the bed, rather than ruminate in all of this for just a bit longer, sink into the negativity like a waterbed and drown. Sinking into everything would’ve allowed everything to go away, but that was not the good way. It was the easy way, and taking the easy way out just like that was not an Adele thing to do. People had went through entire generations of abuse, of suffering , just to make her life better, and she was just gonna mope like a bish all about it like that?

Her hand tightly gripped the cross necklace around her neck. The Lord knew she could do better. She knew she could do better. That was pretty heavy, a lot to pile on about, but she just had to get through this night, and then it would all be good. After this, there’d be other people. There’d be Vandy, there’d be college, there’d be new causes, new things, new ways to deal with everything all about just like that.

With a grunt, she lifted herself up off the bed, gingerly getting up. Slowly, yet surely, she put on her slippers and began her journey to the bathroom, squinting in the dark to give herself some semblance of vision in the night, lest she trip over some stuff and wake up the entire room. This was her shiz to deal with, and there was no need to involve the rest of the girls in it. Wasn’t godly, no, no need to get innocent people involved in things she had to fix on her own. She was responsible, Adele told herself. She got this in the bag, it was good, she got it. If it wasn't good now, she was going to make it good.

A few moments of unsure stumbling later, she was in the bathroom, slippers thankfully not sliding on the linoleum floor. With a small flick of the light switch, the room was flooded with light, forcing Adele to close her eyes to prevent herself from being blinded by all the flashing brightness making it's way right into her eyeballs. Once that was over, one eyelid slowly opened up, followed by the next, as she stared at herself directly in the mirror and saw-

Shit. Shiiiiit. She looked like shiiiiit. The eyebags under her eyes seemed to be doubling in magnitude, her skin awfully ashy, and even her hair, tucked under the wrap, thank the Lord in heaven, with his highest praise, she could see the locks starting to pint out in not a great way. A sight for sore eyes, yes indeed, but also her, without any coffee. Shouldn’t just bought some earlier. Should’ve just gotten one in the morning, a fresh cup of joe to keep her on top of things.

Too late now, though, and with a sigh, she turned off the bathroom lights, and headed back to her shared bed.

Adele only slept an hour that night.

((ADELE JONES - CONTINUED IN V7))