I live in a constant state of delusion that my world is not falling apart

But around me each day parts of the sky hit the ground.

Trying hard everyday to cope with the artificial happiness provided by chemicals digested at specific designated times.

Prescribed by someone who promises that everything will go back to the way it was.

But each day the memory of who I was fades away until it is nothing more than a shadow on the bathroom floor as I look into the mirror unable to recognize who I have become.

I’m tired of doing this.

I'm tired of having to live off of the demands of dosages that I will never understand.

because why do I have to take something artificial to feel something real again.

And I'm angry, because I know it wasn’t always like this,
but the road to get back home became too jagged to travel,
so I am forced to just watch in jealousy as everyone else figures it out.

They’ll send a postcard that reads, “We Wish You Were Here!”,
but they will never understand
how badly I wish I was.