My phone.
A window to the rest of the world. I pick it up, I flick past the handful of apps with each new screen. I'm searching. For nothing in particular. I am slow, there's no speed, but there is haste.
I flick past and back again. Nothing quite does it There's nothing to click on, nothing able to catch my lack of attention.
I rely on my phone with a heaviness. A neediness. I'm agitated. I'm bored. I'm scared.
The clock shows close to midnight. I'm tired. But I just want something to do. I'm scared.
The day has been uneventful. Held nothing but my restlessness. And yet I'm eking it out. I'm consciously avoiding the looming night. I don't want to bear this. But there's a simmering fear of the end of it.
You'd think the knowledge of a new day, a fresh awakening would spur me. Or the nothingness of sleep. But something holds me back. Something takes me back to that screen. I flick through the screens. The dim glow from the TV and my phone now the only things emanating any light. I succumb.