Alfie the bear.
I slip inside my black dress, pulling my hair to one side so I can fasten it from the back. My fingers are trembling so it takes me three times before I'm successful. I can taste the makeup on my lips and I push my tongue out, wetting my bottom one. I don't like the feeling of it. I haven't worn it for so long, it now feels alien against my skin. I reach for a makeup wipe from my dressing table and run it over my lips, removing the stained nude.
Every action I carry out feels like a movie playing through my mind. Inside, I feel emotionless, numb. I've detached myself from the world because I can't seem to find any purpose anymore.
When I look at myself in the mirror, I barely register the deep dark circles underneath my eyes. I don't see the lightning bolts of red veins shooting through the white in my eyes. I don't make out the hollow dip in my cheek bones or the ashy, almost zombie-like tone to my skin.