π₯β’ itβs a sickly, tough feeling when she wakes up. But it always was for her, anyhow. Despite that everlasting, hard-to-swallow fact, Posey canβt help but feel constricted in her own skin.
Like usual.
The loss of her parentsβ being diagnosed withβ¦with all her shitβ studies and classes and the constant struggle on campusβ¦god, it was taking its toll on her.
She was bone thin beneath her baggy, dark brown crewneck, her wrists bony and her spine rigid with bumps.
Around her eyes were the eery, bluish-pinkish veins that faintly spread out like a spiders web, her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, bags so heavy she felt like passing awayβ and worst of all, the after effect of taking drugs to prevent any psychotic breaksβ¦
Her eyes were a bright, neon pink.
With a resistant and low, weak sigh, Powder sighed and pried herself to sit up, pushing the covers off her frame and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.