I hate it when people forget about me. Having a schedule keeps my life moving forward. When someone forgets I lose momentum. I think I rely too much on people. I’m just too fucking depressed for a friday.
I’m sinking into a depression.
Nobody is there to throw me a lifesaver. Nobody knows I’m drowning.
I can’t work. I can’t move. I can’t cry.
I’m trying to tread water, but the longer I do it the harder it gets. I’m tired. I want to give up. But I know that if I stop swimming I’ll sink, and if I do this time I might not resurface.
My sister decided to go inpatient again today. I was so relieved I cried. Recovery is hard, but making the choice to try again is probably hardest.
For me, I’m in limbo between a full-blown relapse and full recovery, just in the middle.
As for today gonna crush this V5, get some schoolwork done, and read a book I’ve been wanting to for awhile.
There are times when all the food in the world could not fill me, and there are times when I can’t even stand the sight of it much less put the foul stuff in my mouth.
Now the first statement stands. I feed the sadness, the greed, the confusion, the loneliness, the anger, the regret, the guilt, the shame, and the anxiety. I am feeding my family of feelings. They gather round the table vying for my attention.
I am afraid that if I stop feeding them that they will revolt and I’ll be overtaken.
Maybe it’s this fog, maybe there are things lurking in it that I didn’t see before, maybe it’s not as harmless as I thought.
Fuck. The voices are back.
Today I feel strong, powerful, intelligent, and collected.
Through the fog that surrounds me I am still standing. I won’t let it get in my way. And while my vision is blurred by the unreality that engulfs me I can still feel.
This is my new home, for the next three and a half years that is. It didn’t feel like home before but now I think it’s starting to grow on me.
I can’t go back there, not for a long time anyway. Winter break was so draining, I’m not sure i’ll survive summer back there. Although, I would like to take a train home- see the country from the window- then maybe organize all of my stuff, keep the personal stuff, get rid of the rest.
I think that being back made me realize how much pain that place holds. I spent so much time crying I could have taken a bath in my tears. Old memories, feelings, thoughts. Some that I can’t even remember. My body knows. My heart knows. I think that my soul knows what it wants but it’s so buried under the mess of my fears and doubts that I can’t find it.
Anyway, I’m so glad to be here. A huge weight has been lifted and I can finally take in the world around me instead of hiding from it.
I fuck with his mind because his body is unavailable.
I screw with his idea of me.
I fondle his words.
I stroke his ego.
I get off on this pun,
because, secretly, I know that I’ve already won.