As I sit here, staring at the lunch I had an hour ago, I can't help but to feel disgusted.
As hard as I try to ignore it, the saliva dripping onto my feet makes its way into my consciousness, reminding me of how low I am.
I constantly avoid looking at my hands, for seeing what I have done makes me want to despise myself even more than I already do.
The dull throbbing at the base of my neck coming from this compromising position almost makes me want to sit up straight and put an end to this activity; however, I know that I don't want to stop, not yet.
I have so much more I know I can let go