I am a creature of habit
I keep thinking wowohwowohwowohwowohwow how things CHANGE man things have changed SO much it's amazing it's incredible unbelievable overwhelming unfathomable unable to have ever predicted that here we would be hugging outside of the ADC no longer with forced smiles from clenching teeth and wicked, glassy marbles for eyes
Yet here I am still pick-pick-picking at the skin on the side of my thumb
Isn’t It Weird, I Mean Wired, I Think I Mean Weird Wait
Wait
Wait
Please
Don’tGo
Hold on, wait things haven’t changed at all, I’m thinking about the fall, thinking about the fall when the leaves were changing and so did we, permanently. I think about the night we stayed up until the sun came up touching and talking and nearly dying one powder-filled capsule at a time. I’m thinking about hallucinating black spiders crazy coming at me, grabbing me, surrounding me, consuming me until it seemed like there was nothing left of me at all
Except spiders, spidery veins, spidery ribs poking out from my spidery skin in every which direction with my spider tired eyes sinking into my spider tired mind
I’m thinking about another sleepless night, countless by then couldn’t remember the last time we really drifted off together into deep, peaceful rest. We lay there at rock bottom which really turns out to be just another K hole but no amount of sticky sweet sugar will get you out.
And I took your hand in mine and said man we can’t stay like this, I looked at the spider cracks in the ceiling that matched the creases in my shaking hands and realized we changed or died.
And I chose life. I bent my knees and pushed up as high as I could off of the cold blacklight-lit lumpy, stained mattress on the floor we laid on because there was no other way to go but UP.
I climbed and climbed and I felt crushed beneath depression and exhaustion that latched on to my back like long-forgotten heavy backpacks full of stones and I wasn’t exactly sure who they belonged to so I carried them with me.
The demons in my eyes started to dissolve into puddles that leaked into my lungs so I coughed them out violently night after night for weeks that seemed to stretch into years. When my eyes managed to flutter shut for a moment I was immediately propelled into night terrors that had me screaming, crying, begging for a different life, a different night, for someone, something please save me from myself
It’s weird that that someone ended up being me
SORT OF. SORT OF is me, because I still am my own worst enemy. I’m fighting this never ending battle in myself with myself, and I think of all these things I changed but here I am HERE I AM AGAIN listening to those same sweet whispers from under my bed, those **** demons that tell me we can just do it for a little while just to be better for a little while to not feel tired lets get wired **** everything lets get high
I’ve grinded out the sharpness of my teeth, just like I’ve grinded out the sharpness of my words, and grinded out the sharpness of the dark contrast against the images of memories of artificial sunshine happiness in my mind, my dopamine pathways have been long hibernating but unlike predictable seasons I'm unsure of when exactly spring will come, or if the groundhog will forever fear its shadow, a demon that reminds it of speed monsters it could never overpower.
I feel like each relapse is worse than the last, like I lose another piece of me, shave off another few years of my life one heart palpitation at a time, and each time it takes more and more to finally feel fine
But there’s so much to do and so little time, so many tears to cry and no one to care, and no matter how many friends I have how many coffees I drink how many hours I sleep there’s only one thing that really makes me feel like I’m so recklessly alive
A creature of habit, I mull these thoughts over and pick my thumbs raw.
