alltheavenueslookugly

wake up and you do not remember sleeping but you are shaking like the past day had been an awful nightmare though i had spent hours chewing sedatives like they were bubble gum treats while doing crossword puzzles in black ink like i had that much confidence in myself. but fuck you, here we go and i squeeze my eyes together until they are sore and i am busy predicting my own unhappy ending –

you are making my heart beat beating me while i am tossing and turning and waiting for the first little light of the new day and it must be around six or six thirty in the morning now and i am up out of frustration but have no need to be scared of sleep again for at least an hour or two or three –

there are things i know and think and dream that are so frightening i couldn’t possibly spill them on anybody and maybe this blog gets the short summary but only i can see just how my brain has been beaten and bruised like the fruit rotting on the kitchen counter in a tiny apartment – it smells like gasoline and uneaten french fries that i should have had for breakfast but i’m too busy vomiting up last night’s dinner to even attempt something so dangerous.  my air conditioner is failing and only my bare feet are cold. i’m writing notes to certain people in a certain language that is both lovely and frightening and i can’t seem to succeed no matter how hard i try –

i’m shaking again and i cannot stop it. thinking of my life as a somewhat organized disaster and there are periods when it goes silent, when i can sit here and think about the things and people that i love and it is enough – so i am okay for those minutes and the songs are not sad and they are gorgeous piano pieces with no words but i can make up my own and in these times all the words are green and silver shiny and innocent and thoughtful.

i think about how when you are born nobody tells you how much of a hell your mind will eventually become and how describing it like a prison is very appropriate. they have no idea of the loneliness and how much you will suffer every single day hour minute or extra long second.  there are no instructions or good advice on how to look around in the void and find ways to glance above and believe that you could actually pull yourself up and out someday.

this is just the way i dance. scars and all. you can see more of them after i am gone and they tear my body open and i guarantee it will be the saddest thing you’ve ever seen or smelled.

mid-morning. nodding off. pinching my arm to keep from falling asleep again because i cannot handle more bad dreams at the moment.

maybe by eight p.m. or midnight i will be ready, though it never matters if i am or not, because i just do as i am told.

good morning and here is nighttime.

~ by alltheavenueslookugly on 2014/09/30.

Posted in september14
Tags: bipolar disorder, depression, dreams, drugs, happiness, hating self, insomnia, isolation, medications, mental illness, nightmares, posts about suicide, self harm, sleep