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Left Drowning

Left Drowning


Description : Left Drowning
Baseline

I catch my foot on the first step outside of my dorm and fall unceremoniously onto the concrete. I stay where I am for a moment, thinking that the set of keys digging into my hand should probably hurt more. Not to mention my knees, since they just endured a direct blow. “Awesome,” I mumble as I push to a wobbly stand and careen toward the door. I giggle slightly while struggling to fit the key into the lock. The good news here is that if I banged the shit out of myself like I think I just did, I might just feel something tomorrow. It has to be better than feeling nothing, right? How's that for a goddamn silver lining? I brace myself against the giant door, steadying myself. Wait, what's less than silver? Iron? Zinc? Could there be a zinc lining?

It takes a few failed attempts at working the lock for me to realize that the key to the house I grew up in near Boston will not, understandably, unlock a dorm in Wisconsin. I finally shove the proper key in the hole and turn the lock. “I've opened the door!” I whisper triumphantly to no one. The thick metal door is unbearably heavy and resists opening fully, so I slam my shoulder hard against the door frame as I try to slither through the narrow opening. Yet another victory! I think hazily. The hangover I'm sure to have tomorrow, plus the injuries from smashing into objects, is definitely going to hurt. So continues my endless search for physical feeling, sensation. Anything. Still, even in my decidedly inebriated state, I know that the bruises from a drunken night can hardly be equated with any sort of positive emotional step forward. At least it will be something, though. Something other than numbness. It will be a distraction, and distractions are always wee.

The stairwell is flooded with hideous fluorescent light. It's empty, although...
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