Daydreamer

“Fuck…!”

I paced back and forth in the room.
My hands trembled more and more with each passing minute.

“Fuck fuck fuck!”

I walked into the bathroom, my hands continuing their non-fucking-stop shaking.
My anger increased to its boiling point and I lost it.

I yelled out and soon, my fist collided with the mirror.

My breathing was heavy as I watched the blood drip down the shattered glass. I ran my other hand –which was still shaking– through my hair and shook my head in disbelief.

“Fuckin’ fuck…”

I moved my injured hand away and went to search for the First Aid kit.
Eventually, I found it and rummaged through it.

Good, I still have a piece of gauze left.

I wrapped it around my knuckles and applied pressure.

I hate this fuckin’ disease so much.
My hands shake non-stop, and then I get so angry and frustrated that I start breaking shit, tonight’s item being the mirror.

They were still shaking.

What pisses me off the most about it is that I can’t get them to stop shaking. I have to rely on Tyler to help me out, because in some magical fuckin’ way, he always gets them to stop.

But guess who’s not here tonight?

I’m going to have to deal with this all night by myself.

Just. Fuckin’. Great.

I wrapped a bandage around the gauze and taped it together and closed the kit, putting it back where I found it.
I turned off the light in the bathroom and walked into my room, plopping face-down onto my bed.

I want to sleep.
But I’m still so fed up and my hands are still fuckin’ shaking!

I grabbed my phone and dialed the familiar number, waiting for an answer.

“H-Hello…?”

“Hey, Tyler…It’s me…”
“Oh, what’s up…?”

The rustling of some sheets sounded after.

“Fuck…! I woke you up, didn’t I?”
“It’s okay, Michael. What’s going on?”

“It’s back…they won’t stop shaking…I’m so frustrated and I just want to sleep…! But they keep shaking!”

“Michael…”
“You don’t have to come over or anything like that…Just…Can…can you sing me to sleep tonight? You’re always good at getting them to stop, and I just don’t know what to do…”

“Funny how every time you push me away…You turn around and you beg me to stay…”

He started to sing and my hands stopped shaking.

“Cut down by the things you say…It’s the beating of a broken drum…”

My body relaxed and my eyes began to close.

“One of these days, you’ll push me away…Turn around, it’ll be too late.”