(no subject)
reading this just makes me glad i'm where i am now and not back there.
however i got here,
im so glad im not there.
Little Pills
I had previously decided that this year would be different; starting the first day of school. This year I would probably throw my medicine off bridges and watch the little white circles float away, spinning and drifting until they were so far from my sight I could no longer need their effect on my mind. I was going to be beautiful. I was going to laugh and the whole world was going to hear me and agree that it is truly the most beautiful sound on the face of this earth. But I woke up with black spots and bad spirits.
I woke up and threw myself into the motions. I was perfect, everything was perfect. I swallowed my pretty little pills without a second thought and descended upon the routine with confidence in my ability. Something went wrong between the time I felt the raindrops at the bus stop and when I couldn’t find a place to sit at lunch. I am a balloon without a string, I tell myself. I am floating in outer space or Canada or someplace I don’t know my way around.
I ate too much again which means I am going to get fat, or maybe I already am and no one has told me yet. Either way I’m strangely and unusually apathetic. This won’t last long and I know it. I am a balloon without a string,
He loves me, he loves me not; this is high school and somehow I cannot deal with it. This is life and someone forgot to give me the instructions manual or even tell me how to assemble myself. This is go to class go to lunch go to class go to practice and all I can think about is going to the clinic. All I can think about is how the time bombs ticking and I’m about to explode, or implode really. When I do they all just look shocked and they ask me where it hurts. I point to my head and the send me to the clinic with a look of utter misunderstanding and confusion. Paper sheets, paper sheets. Every day I dream about those paper sheets until next thing I know I am curled up in paper sheets and my mom is on the phone saying “I can’t leave work, let her sleep, let her sleep.”
And that I do. Sleep through the morning, sleep through lunch. I sleep through the afternoon and past the bell. I know there’s more than one of me out there and they all want to know why we sleep so much because “sleeping surely isn’t the solution!” They want us to deal with life. Isn’t that a joke? This is our way of dealing. I’d rather sleep than cry or die or starve myself. I’d rather sleep than watch it all slip away. I know it’s slipping and soon there will be nothing left but at least this way I don’t have to watch it go. I am dealing with life; I just need to take a break most of the time.
however i got here,
im so glad im not there.
Little Pills
I had previously decided that this year would be different; starting the first day of school. This year I would probably throw my medicine off bridges and watch the little white circles float away, spinning and drifting until they were so far from my sight I could no longer need their effect on my mind. I was going to be beautiful. I was going to laugh and the whole world was going to hear me and agree that it is truly the most beautiful sound on the face of this earth. But I woke up with black spots and bad spirits.
I woke up and threw myself into the motions. I was perfect, everything was perfect. I swallowed my pretty little pills without a second thought and descended upon the routine with confidence in my ability. Something went wrong between the time I felt the raindrops at the bus stop and when I couldn’t find a place to sit at lunch. I am a balloon without a string, I tell myself. I am floating in outer space or Canada or someplace I don’t know my way around.
I ate too much again which means I am going to get fat, or maybe I already am and no one has told me yet. Either way I’m strangely and unusually apathetic. This won’t last long and I know it. I am a balloon without a string,
He loves me, he loves me not; this is high school and somehow I cannot deal with it. This is life and someone forgot to give me the instructions manual or even tell me how to assemble myself. This is go to class go to lunch go to class go to practice and all I can think about is going to the clinic. All I can think about is how the time bombs ticking and I’m about to explode, or implode really. When I do they all just look shocked and they ask me where it hurts. I point to my head and the send me to the clinic with a look of utter misunderstanding and confusion. Paper sheets, paper sheets. Every day I dream about those paper sheets until next thing I know I am curled up in paper sheets and my mom is on the phone saying “I can’t leave work, let her sleep, let her sleep.”
And that I do. Sleep through the morning, sleep through lunch. I sleep through the afternoon and past the bell. I know there’s more than one of me out there and they all want to know why we sleep so much because “sleeping surely isn’t the solution!” They want us to deal with life. Isn’t that a joke? This is our way of dealing. I’d rather sleep than cry or die or starve myself. I’d rather sleep than watch it all slip away. I know it’s slipping and soon there will be nothing left but at least this way I don’t have to watch it go. I am dealing with life; I just need to take a break most of the time.