I can feel my back aching, I’m so tired, so sweaty. I think I was sleeping on something firm, yet it’s somehow so warm.

I rubbed my hands against the rough cracks between the sweltering smooth surface, while taking in deep breaths of the almost palpable, humid air. Where am I? Why am I here?

The hum buzz of florescent lights is wringing my swollen brain to the sides of my skull. My stomach is sinking deeper than I thought possible. I can feel my blood pulsing and stinging through every pathway in my brain, and light stabs me through my face.

How can I see? I can’t even breathe, how can I see?!

I lift my weak and heavy body, peeling my sweaty form off of the tile floor and leaving me sitting hunched over facing a mirror. Heaving and shaking I look around and everything is just putting me off. A large bowl of porcelain stands hundreds of feet above me, and gargantuan piping leading off of a reflected platform far behind me.

Then I see myself. I have pale, thin skin, and I can see my veins rippling under my skin. My oily stringy hair was hanging off of me, swaying as I twitched. Then I saw it.

I saw my face. My nose, my mouth, and a concave space above, but no eyes. Smoothed over skin, but no eyes. How can I see? Where are my eyes?