My clothes don’t fit. They feel like they were made for someone else.
My hair won’t do what I want it to do.
There are bags under my eyes that I did not put there.
I need a toothbrush, again.
What’s that smell? Hope it’s not me.
My hands don’t want to do what I’m thinking.
I can’t seem to walk a straight line anymore and I haven’t been drinking.
There are ghosts haunting the corners of my vision.
My brain cannot stay on the same track or get off this one about what’s wrong with me.
That piece jiggles and thank God that one’s not.
My rings keep twisting and poking me, could swear they were tight yesterday.
These clothes! But if I took them off, I’d have to see myself naked and that just won’t do.