me and march 30 – 1:44 a.m.
i can only try to explain what i know. i know very well how my mind works when it is broken. i know the patterns, the foolish and sad justifications for itself and the way it can manipulate and hurt and convince me that i am far beyond worthless and unlovable and fat and disgusting and incapable of love or ever accepting that love. i know the ways that it taunts. i know that it loves alcohol and self-harm and guilt baths and giving me a look at a world i was never meant for and really have no business being in.
and then there is the unknown. the mind and the bag of tricks that i will never understand. this is the part that makes people shudder. it’s the part that makes me cry, the part that makes me cut my arms, my legs, my face, without fighting back against it. it’s the part that normal people will never understand because i will never understand it and trying to explain it is impossible.
it’s a normal weather evening. i’ve unintentionally fought against my sleeping pill and won – but really just lost. i haven’t slept for shit in almost a week. i’ve barely eaten and when i look in the mirror, when i can stomach the horror that stares back at me, i see that i must have gained twenty pounds. my body, my misshapen clay-like body is there sad and now i’ve gained another five pounds in the time it took me to blink and i am astounded because just nine minutes ago the mirror led me to believe i had lost three to six pounds.
i’m smoking cigarettes until my lungs explode.
i am outside. the mosquitos are chewing my legs apart and i have earned this punishment. there might be fog soon. there could be rain and nightmares and i could leave the dead bugs on my arms where i have swatted at them.
i know my neighbors are asleep around me. i know they are going to wake up alive and refreshed without nightmares about life and i envy them just up until the point where i fucking hate them and resent them for their happiness.
i’m so sorry. and they’ve done nothing wrong.
i need to slow my heart down before i start vomiting it up in broken chunks of stress and snot and tar and booze and family memories and lithium and midnight shitty poems in shitty ragged notebooks.
i don’t want to sleep now. i want to curl up with a little bit of laughter until that too is gone.