Static. That's what the television blared at me.

I hadn't even noticed for a few hours. My eyes burned as the dissociative buzz faded away from the corners of my mind, leaving me dazed and confused as I attempted to understand where I was now.

My coffee table was littered with junk—chip bags, empty soda cans, some glasses holding alcohol that I could barely even remember drinking. I tried to stand, but immediately my legs buckled and I sat right back down.

Fuck. How long had I been here? I couldn't even remember anything. I thought I had fallen asleep.

My head pounded as the static finally began to annoy me. My legs began to erupt with that pins-and-needles shit and that's the moment I snapped back into reality. I finally managed to move something other than my legs and stretched my arms over my head.

I fumbled for my phone, only to find that it was nowhere in sight. Goddammit, where had I left it now? I stood, albeit on wobbly legs, and now just realised how much time had passed. There was light peering through the shitty blinds on my windows. Morning.

Morning. Last time I checked it was 10 PM at night.

I rubbed my eyes as the lack of sleep finally began to kick in, my limbs feeling like massive things of lead.

I eventually located my phone, which was face down on the kitchen table—nowhere remotely close to where I thought it was—and picked it up. 12:33 PM. Shit. Had I really burned through that many hours just watching TV?

There were 54 missed calls, many from unsaved numbers, and about 12 texts on the lock screen. I sighed and rubbed my head as a migraine began to dig deep into my skull. I'll answer them later, I can't deal with this bullshit.