Plath vibes

 

There was a great silence when the elevator door closed as the remaining guests left. With a fading smile drooping down my face, I placed down my finger and weakly started the kettle, lied down, and felt the headache coming back once again. Thinking it was due to having laid down, I went back to the kitchen, and with my head against the wall was hypnotized by the splurging bubbles audible from the already lukewarm water. I stared down at my hands: my miserably broken nails, crippling under the worn out terra-cotta polish. I felt my lips sore, dry and hot, probably from my constant involuntary nagging. The only thing I could think about was how sad I had suddenly become. But why was I sad, after having spent what seemed like one of my happiest days of the season? It was as though i'd spent the whole day in my transition into depression season.