(no subject)
It's morning, or somewhere between then and mid-late afternoon, I'm not particularly sure because I refused to acknowledge the time was way beyond what I'd consider healthy for waking. I could feel the onset of afternoon in the air as I placed my feet on the grimy wooden floor by the edge of my bed. I wiped sleep from my eyes with the corner of my fist and groaned as the ache in my head alerted me with each violently pounding throb that I'd fucked up again.
This is not what's supposed to be happening.
I stood to shaking legs, shaking body and found my way through the maze of clothes, beer cans and trash littering the floor. I stood at the door to my bedroom with my hand on the doorknob and considered what it meant if I opened it and exited my self-created haven and entered the harsh reality of real life. I shook my head again, rubbing my eyes, and asked myself where I'd left my glasses. Forgetting and not attempting to search long and hard, I grabbed the doorknob, threw the door open and let the cold air of the hallway touch my body sending tiny bumps up my bare arms and legs as I shivered with chill.
To the bathroom, I looked in the mirror, saw the mishapen tangled mess that was resting where my hair should of been, saw the dark shadows under my eyes and the remnants of red wine on my teeth. I coughed, lungs achy from the putrid smoke I'd inhaled a dozen times the night before and shuddered.
Why am i doing this again?
I was so deadset on the future being set and with the slightest inclination I'd thrown the whole pursuit off course. I did not know how to define myself as I look in the mirror, a saggy hollowed version of a girl and a brighteyed redcheeked incarnation of a woman. Wait. I am not a woman. My tits, still as small as they were when they started to develop, were in no way womanly. My hair framed a half womanly face and my hip bones were turning inward more and more to present shapely hips perfect for childbearing.
I don't want to grow up.
The tile felt cold on my bare feet and as I moved them to prevent chilling, I recalled some event in the past. I was a child, young, jubilant, happy. Running, laughing, screaming, playing.
Why do these things leave us as we grow?
I am sure that when I was that young, I'd never would have thought that multiple men would have touched me and I would be lonely, cold and bitter on most mornings that none of them had stayed. I'm almost positive that I had not dreamed that I would float carelessly from job to obligation, responsibility to fuckup, over and over and over again.
I forgot the point I was trying to make and headed back to my bedroom. Sat down at my desk and counted the one, two, three bottles of medication that would prevent my mind from straying from it's supposed course of normalcy. Anti depressants, speed, anti-anxiety.
Oh yes, meds.
I popped the white and blue one, took the small white one and then, waited five minutes before putting the blue amphetamine called psych drug in my mouthj. I stared at the wall and counted to five before I felt the first bit of adrenaline pull through my veins.
Oh fuck yeah, this is going to be a good day.
This is not what's supposed to be happening.
I stood to shaking legs, shaking body and found my way through the maze of clothes, beer cans and trash littering the floor. I stood at the door to my bedroom with my hand on the doorknob and considered what it meant if I opened it and exited my self-created haven and entered the harsh reality of real life. I shook my head again, rubbing my eyes, and asked myself where I'd left my glasses. Forgetting and not attempting to search long and hard, I grabbed the doorknob, threw the door open and let the cold air of the hallway touch my body sending tiny bumps up my bare arms and legs as I shivered with chill.
To the bathroom, I looked in the mirror, saw the mishapen tangled mess that was resting where my hair should of been, saw the dark shadows under my eyes and the remnants of red wine on my teeth. I coughed, lungs achy from the putrid smoke I'd inhaled a dozen times the night before and shuddered.
Why am i doing this again?
I was so deadset on the future being set and with the slightest inclination I'd thrown the whole pursuit off course. I did not know how to define myself as I look in the mirror, a saggy hollowed version of a girl and a brighteyed redcheeked incarnation of a woman. Wait. I am not a woman. My tits, still as small as they were when they started to develop, were in no way womanly. My hair framed a half womanly face and my hip bones were turning inward more and more to present shapely hips perfect for childbearing.
I don't want to grow up.
The tile felt cold on my bare feet and as I moved them to prevent chilling, I recalled some event in the past. I was a child, young, jubilant, happy. Running, laughing, screaming, playing.
Why do these things leave us as we grow?
I am sure that when I was that young, I'd never would have thought that multiple men would have touched me and I would be lonely, cold and bitter on most mornings that none of them had stayed. I'm almost positive that I had not dreamed that I would float carelessly from job to obligation, responsibility to fuckup, over and over and over again.
I forgot the point I was trying to make and headed back to my bedroom. Sat down at my desk and counted the one, two, three bottles of medication that would prevent my mind from straying from it's supposed course of normalcy. Anti depressants, speed, anti-anxiety.
Oh yes, meds.
I popped the white and blue one, took the small white one and then, waited five minutes before putting the blue amphetamine called psych drug in my mouthj. I stared at the wall and counted to five before I felt the first bit of adrenaline pull through my veins.
Oh fuck yeah, this is going to be a good day.