I’m scribbling this numb.
Very, inexplicably, numb.
there’s a frigid draft coming in from my window,
and, at this moment,
I feel that if i were not bound by endless expectations and worldly aspirations,
I would probably go with the breeze and leap from the third floor.
praying that I land on the ground hard enough to wake myself up.
I’m scribbling this worried.
Very, knowingly, worried.
there’s a reoccuring dream, every other day.
when I am knee deep in my poison,
diving into glass shards and trophy caps.
an array of chanting.
I am the reigning queen, of,
Nothing.
and, here I am.
Up to my neck in caps, swimming in remains,
on the third floor,
ready to wake myself up again.
Three….
Two…
One…
Wait, how did I end up back in my bed?
I am developing an alcohol dependence. One night, when drunk in my room, I was depressed, feeling lost, wanting to jump out my window. I called my friend, told her and she tells me "this is just the system, you gotta let it run its course."
