trigger warning: blood mention. if this is something you don’t feel like you should be reading right now, feel free to skip, and just in case, find a crisis line in your area here.
blood dripping down my cheeks. slumped shoulders. angry music. too much caffeine.
and i’ve just gotta make it through one more fucking night of this. just got to grit my teeth, and push through the quicksand of my mind, and just… just tell me i did good, all right? even if i didn’t. tell me you’re proud of me. because god knows i need it.
and the shadows melt, and my limbs start to bend, and it’s funny, how scared of yourself you can get. an echo chamber of self-hatred. greasy fingers, long showers, scabs scattered across my skin. and this is… real, right?
because, well, sometimes… it doesn’t feel like it.
and maybe it’ll pay off in the end. or maybe this was only ever pointless. and maybe i don’t even care anymore. because i just want to get this over with.
but tomorrow. tomorrow will be better, right? i mean… won’t it?
I don’t know what’s going on post this being published, but as I write this the government in my province just said it was okay, after May 16th, to see a tight group of friends again. But the thing is, no matter how hard I try–I can’t get myself to truly be happy about it, I guess. I should be. I’ve been lying to myself that I wasn’t silently screaming to just hug someone, and laugh with them about dumb YouTube videos, and lay my head on their shoulder, but… yeah, I have. I totally have. And yet somehow the idea of having interaction back knowing it could be taken away by some random person in a suit who doesn’t even know I exist? It scares the shit of me. Because suddenly, I something to lose.
Essentially, to cope with the virus, I’ve been kind of in this… constantly denial/cynicism thing. I told myself this was just a fun vacation, an opportunity to develop coping skills and gain life experience, imagined all my friends were online. That I had never even hugged someone other than my family before, and I certainly did and do not miss it like this massive sinkhole in my chest.
And no matter which way you slice it, I just end up back at the same place I am now. Tired and angry and scared, and completely fucking useless. Ruining on caffeine and desperation, bouncing between emotional extremes in the blink of an eye pretending everything is all right. And yeah, it… it sucks.