I haven't been taking my medication, choosing instead to believe fairytales of miraculous recovery. I swing through stages of happiness; everything is okay now. I am better. I was fooling myself all along.
Then, suddenly, destruction. Crushed in catastrophe, I rush back the other way. Suicidal tendencies resurface, drug use escalates. I know it makes it worse. How else do I deal with this shit? My mind is a mess.
My sister cut at me the other day. My wire bones and twine sinews shuddered: "How come you never smile anymore?" Then, my mother: "Even your grandmother noticed how unhealthy you've been looking lately." My ex-best friend: "Don't call me when you hit rock bottom. I've learned a lot from you. How to let yourself go, how to lose all respect for yourself."
I am a drain on society. I hurt my friends and family to the point where I sometimes wonder if it would be better that I just leave. Let them be safe from my masochism and their worry and fears for my future. I need to figure myself out, fix this, but the deathly quicksand of bad choices is much too tantalizing. I've gone too far into this fog; I don't know if I can (want to) find my way out.
