Some people have depth, some people just drown.
Fuck.
I've been silent so long I think I've forgotten how to speak.
Call someone, anyone
just to hear the sound of my own voice, just to rationalize why I do these things. I need to hear myself out loud rationalizing why it's okay, why I want it, why I'm willing to go this far. I need to hear this new voice and search deep in there for a glimpse of my old one. Addiction breeds anger, confusion, corners of eyes red from wiping away tears, furrowed brows, blackened, sunken eyes, blood. I say I'll stop but the instant the opportunity arises my pupils are the size of dimes. My heart races like a little girl in love. Is that all I am? A little girl in love with her addiction and subsequent misery? I can't answer the questions I pose, so I dial. Ring... 2... 3... 4... 5... Hi. You've... Click. It's like that for all of them. So I text you, try to start a conversation implying more than just wondering how you are, implying that I think I might be dying and I don't know how to save myself. But you're busy and either aloof or indifferent, so I let you go. Continue on with the epic novel being scrawled into my brain.
Don't speak. Keep it inside where it belongs.
Fuck it. If listening is too much of a burden I'll spare you of it. I'll keep my damn mouth shut. I'll answer your questions and laugh at your jokes, but inside I'm not there and never will be. I'll let my judgement be clouded. I'll light up, get lit up, trip, flip, and drop. I'll get loud, outgoing, and petty, just the way you like it - never serious. I'll sink further and further into the depths of addiction because that's how you like it. I need to please you. I need to take the knife, plunge it deep into my chest, and dig. I'll just hope for a miracle. The damage is already done. Leaving may be the only thing to do but I'll find the junkies, the alcoholics, the addicts. I'll find the ones everyone tells me are mine no matter where I go. I can't hide.
Run.
I can't ever escape.
Run. Run. RUN.
And then the phone rings and a new opportunity presents itself. So I turn around and crawl back into my dark cave, our dark cave, wondering,
Will I ever emerge?
I've been silent so long I think I've forgotten how to speak.
Call someone, anyone
just to hear the sound of my own voice, just to rationalize why I do these things. I need to hear myself out loud rationalizing why it's okay, why I want it, why I'm willing to go this far. I need to hear this new voice and search deep in there for a glimpse of my old one. Addiction breeds anger, confusion, corners of eyes red from wiping away tears, furrowed brows, blackened, sunken eyes, blood. I say I'll stop but the instant the opportunity arises my pupils are the size of dimes. My heart races like a little girl in love. Is that all I am? A little girl in love with her addiction and subsequent misery? I can't answer the questions I pose, so I dial. Ring... 2... 3... 4... 5... Hi. You've... Click. It's like that for all of them. So I text you, try to start a conversation implying more than just wondering how you are, implying that I think I might be dying and I don't know how to save myself. But you're busy and either aloof or indifferent, so I let you go. Continue on with the epic novel being scrawled into my brain.
Don't speak. Keep it inside where it belongs.
Fuck it. If listening is too much of a burden I'll spare you of it. I'll keep my damn mouth shut. I'll answer your questions and laugh at your jokes, but inside I'm not there and never will be. I'll let my judgement be clouded. I'll light up, get lit up, trip, flip, and drop. I'll get loud, outgoing, and petty, just the way you like it - never serious. I'll sink further and further into the depths of addiction because that's how you like it. I need to please you. I need to take the knife, plunge it deep into my chest, and dig. I'll just hope for a miracle. The damage is already done. Leaving may be the only thing to do but I'll find the junkies, the alcoholics, the addicts. I'll find the ones everyone tells me are mine no matter where I go. I can't hide.
Run.
I can't ever escape.
Run. Run. RUN.
And then the phone rings and a new opportunity presents itself. So I turn around and crawl back into my dark cave, our dark cave, wondering,
Will I ever emerge?