Fear. Reality.


(Super Emo Picture I Took To Demonstrate My Misery, Obviously)

I am submerged in painkillers, but the pain is as clear as ever. I am a mouthful of open wounds; my speech is garbled, heavy with uncertainty. I swallow and inside I scream. 

I rinse my mouth in the bathroom and bang my fists against the walls. I get back into bed and sleep for an hour; I wake and do it all over again.

I try to listen to my meditations but they do nothing to penetrate my reality. I watch The West Wing and remain awake. I swallow another painkiller; I've lost count of how many I've taken today. I should be more careful; I cannot.

I feel like I am drowning; breathing through my mouth is not an option, but my nose is congested, so that each breath I take is shallow. I use nasal spray, decongestants, more often than recommended. I need a minute of relief.

I read my books and websites and forget what's been said a minute later. I rewind my shows and watch again. My attention is blurred. I do not drive on days like this.

I blow off my friends. I apologize but it must get old, right? I am never there when I say I will be. 

My sister gets married in 2 weeks and I'm afraid my sickness will still be present. I'm afraid I won't be able to celebrate her. I'm afraid I'll be tired and lethargic. I am afraid, I am afraid.

I need a break. I want a break.

This is my entire life, and I need more.

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