Day .02-1,

I wake up.

I'm gasping, wide awake and alert, springing from my bed with wide eyes while I'm holding my neck. My hands and lips quaver, my mind is frazzled, and my heart thumps too loudly in my ears. I want to throw up and gag; nothing I swallow from my throat goes down, refusing to listen to me. I'm trembling, my body is shaking and quivering and spasming and my heart hurts and my lungs feel stilled and cogged and my mind is, my mind is, my mind is-.

I try to get up and now I'm leaning on the wall and tripping over my two feet, falling on the ground. I'm coughing and hugging my throat, my body and mind a complete mess. Saliva hangs from my mouth; my throat burns, and my hands clutch and grab at the rugged ground, trying to hold onto something to help stabilize me. I feel like I'm suffocating, an imaginary rope tied around my throat that pulls harder, harder, and harder, like a whip-.

The first real moment of unfortunate events took place when I was hacking up spit and dry air, falling on my stomach and turning my head. And when I turn my head, I see a spider, dead, upside down, black and crocked and uneven. It's tiny, skinny legs are hosted up, and its round belly now slides flat, exposed to the cool air of my room.

I first flinch away, scrunching up my face in disgust, but then I became intrigued. I remember yesterday and the days prior. I remember the clapping and slamming. I remember the way my rough callouses felt as I collided my palms together, creating a sound loud enough to wake up the dead.

I'm not even coughing and panicking anymore, too interested in the big bug laying upside down on my floor. It takes up my attention so easily, my head tilting and wondering less on how gross the bug's intestines looked but more about if I can make it move again.

So, I tried. 

I widen my hands and clap, loud and obnoxious, and waited. I waited a heartbeat, maybe two, before I roll my eyes, still noticing the dead insect-.

Then it moved.

It was first a leg, twitching and straighten before another and another. The spider raises itself and spins, crawling with a limp towards my dresser. I don't move away; I don't move forward. I only stare at the slow-moving spider, watching it with big blue eyes. 

Then I raise my hands, and pause, before I turn towards the spider and calmly tell it to stop.

And it does. It falls and lies, like it was a puppet and I let go of the strings. 

I laugh, drily, my throat still stinging. Then I look to the dead spider, move my eyes to the bed, roam then to my lower body, and final my feet, which I realized, one of my feet is covered in a blue flame.

I tremble, vividly, while lifting my foot up and eyeing it, it was no longer just a toe on fire, but from my toes to my ankle, all I saw was skeletal bone and blue. It was blazing, like an untamed flame.

I croak, turning my head quickly, trying to ignore the dead bug near my dresser and my missing foot.

I reach for my charging phone. I turn it on, relieved about the time, but then I see the screen. I see the today's date in big, white letters, and my stomach sinks in this bottomless pit, a void that I don't think it can ever surface above again. 

6:55 A.M. November 1st, 2018.

I turn off my phone and turn it back on, reading the date repeatedly.

6:55 A.M. November 1st, 2018.

Again.

6:55 A.M. November 1st, 2018.

Again.

6:55 A.M. November 1st, 2018.

Again.

6:56 A.M. November 1st, 2018.

November 1st, 2018.

I grab my phone, turning it on and off. I plug in my password, checking my calendar.

November 1st, 2018.

I go on the internet and type in "today's date."

6:57 A.M. November 1st, 2018.

I drop my phone, the date staring me straight in my face.

November 1st, 2018. November 1st, 2018. November 1st, 2018.November 1st, 2018. November 1st, 2018. November 1st, 2018. November 1st, 2018. November 1st, 2018.

Holyshitit'snovember1stwhythat'snotpossiblebecauseyesterdaywas-.

Yesterday was November 1st, 2018.

So why is today November 1st, 2018?

"Andy?" I eye the door like it's going to attack me. "Are you awake, it's time to get up-."

"Hey mum?" My mouth, my body, my hands palpitate. My eyes water, and my ankle burns. "I-I don't feel good. Can I stay home today?"

"Stay home?" It sounds like she shuffles, trying to find a position to stand longer in. "You never ask to stay home…is everything okay-."

"Mum." I said, a tear slips. "Please?"

"Okay-okay, I'll tell your dad. Can I come-?"

"No-! No, I'm…I'm good," I said, clearing my throat, "j-jjust probably a small fever-."

"Fever?! Let me check your-."

"Mum!" It's the first time I've ever yelled at my mother like that before, voice cracked and heart heavy. "Just for today. Please."

My mum stays silent before she sighs, shuffling again. 

"Okay, come down if you need me." She said. 

She leaves, and I fall on my side, hugging myself, confused and scared, fearful to move. 

Today wasn't tomorrow because yesterday didn't exist. 

I realized that I'm living in a paradox of unfortunate events, dying repeatedly on a remake of the same days. I'm trapped, imprisoned to die again, today, and again, the next today. 

I wonder if tomorrow even exists.