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As one ages it can become difficult to see
that beauty in the world, I try
to remember to look for it,
To enjoy simple aesthesis when possible.

Listening to Ocean Eyes
and I feel older inside.

Realized how alone I am, wondered
whether I haven't been clean for too long.
I keep forgetting
I don't have a substance use disorder, I keep forgetting
I'm not currently a drug user.
I gave up that life, and
can't remember why.

Take enough benzodiazepine and you can time travel,
But only forward;
Was never really too bothered with benzos, 'cause I just
wanna go back
and be accepted.
I'm almost 25. Right now I'm really feeling you, 2019.
Was listening to Billy Eilish earlier, and watching Euphoria.
Feel this
so much sometimes, get such a sense of our contemporary culture.
this day, these moments in time; I felt emotion, and briefly fled my home.
Twenty-Nineteen draws to a close.
Terrible dream last night, the next installment of
a recent nightmare in which I'd killed someone.
Sense of dread that I couldn't shake, couldn't
remember who I had slain, but the motive
was to conceal some crime I perpetrated.

When I woke up I couldn't remember anything
about them
other than their gender; it took me
so long
to convince myself it wasn't real.

I don't understand. I know
nothing worse
than the concept of taking life from a human.
It disturbed me deeply, such a thing

invading my sleep.
I am somewhat disappointed
in myself and those old habits.

I did not intend
to drink or smoke
or take stimulants
last night. Alas, my former zealotry took me by surprise.

I was happy enough just being around my people,
Talking with them. There was no need for me
to be as concerned,
To champion
the cause.

This I regret
for I was far too drunk
when the 4-Fluoroethylphenidate
came out, and its nuances were lost on me.
The human cannot return to nature,
There is too much beyond us which we cannot return.
Signs, tools, and above all, promise.
To promise is to prescribe a duty, and offer one's reputation
as collateral. It implies trust, it assures
that one will act in accordance with their word.

What should make this anything other
than an elaborate set of signs
used to measure
the value of other humans?
An intricate social tool, as it were.

In promise there is a prescription of duty
towards another, and an invocation of hope.
In promise there is subordination, implied trust.
They say agreements must be kept, unless they are worth less to others than a new option is to you.
The thought struck me,
How long it has been.
How long it seems
to recover, but

I wonder
whether it's that
you learn to live with a cleft heart, or
that you replace a part here and there
until it no longer resembles whatever
you once felt. Memory's at the chasm.

Guilt, I wish I'd been better.
Got a haircut, beard trimmed.
Say I look better. D'I feel better?
Ah, a year seems like a long time.

What to do
other than write ode
to GABAminergics, one for the Irish.

Earlier I took a low dose of phenibut,
Three-quarters a gram,
Perhaps equivalent to a pint.
Mild result, tired now, my eyelids
are heavy with the experience of it all.
I fall asleep
to Skinshape's
Left With A Gun.
I wondered a lie, it is my head.

The culture within me seeks solace in
substance, and I wonder
why my mental health won't stay wholesome.

It is hard to hear that genuine, innocent voice
anymore, to hear it put words to my mouth.
My head pounds with nervous aftershock.

I was quite manic today. It is clear to me
I was not in control of myself

and would do well to seek help, or administer something
that'd reconcile with myself with
these sways.

Hatred. My heart burns with it.
How can I forgive myself?
Part of me
wants to watch it burn.
Is it okay to write that?
To admit to living
in a world of one's own

sins and torment;
A survival technique:
To look toward a dark future
spent living in the past.

I'll not shy away from
reasoned discourse, nor
should I go willingly into my pain
thinking it'll save me.

The next day I took a single milligram
of 4-chlorodiazepam.
Where to from here?

To move on
is forgiveness enough.
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