No One Prospers in Chaos

She woke up. She didn't know why she woke up. She couldn't remember her dream, so there was no telling if it woke her up. Nothing loud happened either. She just out of the blue woke up. She sat up and wrapped the blanket around her. She stared at the wrinkles in her covers and tried to count them, but stopped after 13. She was sleepy, but more bored than that. It was 5 o'clock. No point in going back to sleep. She felt sick, too. She sighed, but not too loud as so no one would hear. Her door was closed, her parents' room was far away, but she was still scared. She felt like there was no where that she could escape from her paranoia. Well, it wasn't paranoia per se, but it might as well have been. She felt like a walking mental asylum half the time. She looked around her room, maybe she'd see something and then have something to do for now. She had to put her laptop into her parents' room for the night, every night. She felt like someone else controled every aspect of her life. Her parents controled most of it, her predicament controled another part, her unhealthy obsessions controled the rest. She knew this was no way to live. But she knew no way to die, either. She felt lost, confused, and alone. She always joked that her life should become a movie on lifetime. Too bad her freinds never thought she wasn't joking as much as they thought. Too bad her freinds never thought about her. Too bad no one thought about her. But who was she to say anything? She wasn't emo, she wasn't pitying herself. She can't pity herself. She's not worth it , for one. She laid back down. She closed her eyes and told herself to fall asleep. Her face hurt. Hell, her everything hurt. But she didn't mind. She couldn't let herself mind. She had so many thoughts racing and fighting each other in her head already, this would just be the straw that broke the camel's back; she could not break. She wasn't a horse. Horses broke. Horses were animals. People behaved more like animals than horses though. She hated people. She hated their intelectual superiority to animals. Was living really better than just surviving? She sighed again. But halfway through she stopped, to not wake anyone. She got back up and got out of bed, and stood up. Suddenly she regretted the fact she didn't have a photographic memory. She didn't have anything, actually. She had confusion, fear, and insanity. It was like every issue ever anyone went through, was put int a margarita shaker, and pour into her brain. No one prospers in chaos.