Going crazy

I wake up on the wrong side of my bed.

And everything that’s wrong

starts falling out of my head.

I look at the winding road.

They talk to me.

Tell me a tale.

It says,

‘Life is running by.’

And then it stops speaking.

Suddenly.

‘Mood changed?’, I ask.

‘Walk on, you’, it replies.

I think to myself.

The roads caught on to my depressing state.

Chuts.

I talk to the road.

‘You are the one with the holes,

you character-less soul.’

And I smile.

It stays still.

Doesn’t move.

I care less.

Down the same road,

I see you walking.

Towards me.

You smile.

I stare back at you.

You talk to me.

I scream.

Then,

I cover up by saying,

‘The bed made me wake up

on the wrong side.’

She stares.

‘What? My bed does that.

Yours must be a normal one.’

She continues staring.

I stare back.

I know I’m blabbering.

She knows it too.

She’s been with me long enough.

She kisses my forehead.

And speaks.

‘Something has happened, surely.

You want to talk?’

I give her a surprised look.

‘Is going crazy “something”?’