The Empty Stare

I'm barely here

I laid there today, as if one with their back broken. The weight of my body had increased to a point where my bones wanted no part of rising it. All of this - because today, I am sick. I'm not sure if it has been the lack of sleep, or the rushing, or just bad luck... but now I am paying for it. I don't want to get up - but I have to. There will be no one else to fix the program today, and explaining it to them on the phone just won't work. So I will get up, and make my way there, only to quarantine myself in a little office until my work is done.

I look at myself in the mirror - and do not recognize the face looking back at me. Are those my eyes, barely open? Are those my cheeks, puffy and pale? I brush the long brown hair back into some semblance of civility. 'OK', I tell myself, 'We are doing this today.'

I am glad someone else is driving. I let the sun shine on my closed eyes as the car moves, at an even 55 miles-per-hour, towards the destination. I see the white sunlight on my white hands. You would think I was dead, instead of sick. I feel like I'm barely here.

You would never think it is only a sinus infection. I am sure that is what it is. It will be two hours to type in the changes to the program, compile it, and fix the errors. After that, maybe I can sleep some more. Hopefully I don't fall asleep before it is done.