alltheavenueslookugly

i cannot talk to you, mr. therapist, because there is way too much shit in here and it’s hard for me to find anything in this mess.

give you

mid-afternoon

i look at myself and i am starving but i am okay, with this and my eyes are shrinking into my skull and eventually into my spine and the room is dark and i don’t think that i am comfortable here but it’s just that being afraid has become a strange routine like brushing my teeth and breathing awkwardly into my pillow – and my dreams are of old times and old friends and old fucks and i am always trying to scrub it away. i cannot run from dreams, i know this, and wish the haunting would stop. thirty more minutes and i wake up in a sweat with eyelids that are unbearably heavy and one or more parts of my body are screaming full of needles and it is still daylight outside that i can see thru the one broken blind –

then early night

i am doing crossword puzzles on the coffee table and have the same song on repeat over and over again and i don’t feel like i will ever grow tired of it but know i will by next week – and i might have a movie on in the background just because i absolutely don’t trust any sort of silence and the song and film are playing well with each other and there are no gaps in the noise – with my phone turned off i have no way to communicate with anybody else. wonderful. i am okay here. my heart starts breathing normal or similar to that. i’m still sad, but whatever.

then late night

maybe a smile or two while i take my medications and wait for them to do absolutely fucking nothing.

and then i fall asleep and then i dream again and i wish the haunting would stop.

i am totally not okay with this.

~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2013/08/28.

Posted in august13
Tags: bipolar disorder, crying, depression, eating disorders, hating self, insomnia, medications, sex, sleep