I remember when the days felt golden because I, felt emotion. Hotter than lava burning brighter than gold I was alive. I remember days twisted into nights well the days feel more like the nights now my daze complicates my thoughts. My thoughts complicate my emotions I feel like when I go on that viking dragon pirate ship ride you know the one. The one that flies high, makes your stomach twist into knots makes you want to throw up. Pure ecstasy when you fall down I am falling down. Down deeper than I ever meant to go sometimes I feel like I need to go need to find where I started and climb back up.

   I remember when you looked at me and it looked like maybe I was able to save you. Now I need to be saved and I feel like I’m being left alone, to my demons they don’t take a day off. Thoughts don’t take a day off. Memories, like itching in my brain they don’t take a day off. Itching in my brain it’s like my own cruel version of PTSD, made up by scars on my mind I swear baby I’ll get better I just need to take some time. It feels like I’m gambling and trust me I’m not a gambling man I don’t know the difference between black jack and poker so imagine my cards on the table I’m being forced a hand I don’t want. I never asked for any of this I never meant to be the cause of your sadness I just wanted what was best for you.

   I know it’s not the logical solution, so imagine this: It’s like my brain is attacking itself, it’s the big bang imploding, exploding I am a supernova. A nuclear reactor going in the red zone, a plate of eggs being cooked on the pan. Suicide never seemed like such a good choice but you know that’s where mental illness comes to play, where my demons aren’t demons I know they aren’t it feels like it though so where do I go from here? Where do I go on this stepping stone path? I want to get better for you I don’t want you to leave or be burdened by my pain I am stuck, I am scared. I need to know things will be okay that maybe you still want to fight for us but I can’t trust the doctors, I can’t trust the mental ward. It’s in my veins this mistrust maybe a therapist would work and I’m two sided on the pills.

   And so I think how to get out of the hole I’ve dug and dug but no answers were ever found. I feel misplaced or misused or overused or something I Can’t. Quite. Grasp.

   I think of the days that were golden. When you looked at me with such happiness and it’s still there but it’s my own fault if that disappears. It’s always going to be my fault. So please, don’t be surprised when one day I am gone. If that day ever comes at least understand I went down fighting. My thoughts in the form of some devilish creature, I grasped it’s neck and it grasped mine. But it’s grip was tighter. At least know that I love you.