I woke up and the first thing that came to my mind was you.
Usually you don’t let my alarm clock do its duty. I was grumpier when I realized you weren’t there.
You were in my dream, again.
It was the reoccurring one where we’re together, at last.
It seemed so real I thought it was reality. I thought it was safe to wake up, so I woke up, but then I realized it wasn’t; waking up was my nightmare.
I told myself I was over you, that I was no longer going to pursue you or even bother wasting my thoughts thinking about you, but I can’t. I can’t let you go. You cross my mind constantly. My mind thinks of you before it automatically blinks, or tells me I’m hungry. I’ve lost another 8 pounds. I’m weaker now than I was when I first met you. What’s strange is that I fell face first then, dumbfounded, thinking is this real?
What the hell am I going to do?
I can’t make you like me. I can’t make you love me. I can’t even get you to acknowledge me.
All I’m going to do is go back to sleep because that is what makes me whole again.
With the help of this bottle, I won’t have to worry about anything anymore. I won’t have to worry about not seeing you, or even worse seeing you with another, someone more fortunate than I.
All my little friends care, all eighty of them. They have my interest. They tell me the more I take them, the more I’ll sleep, and the more I sleep the more we’ll be together.
So here I go, back to where I was. Sip, swallow, Sleep
Together we’ll finally meet.
Like an anchor you try to drag everyone down, and secure them in a place where being on edge is if the norm. Sadly, the only person you’re burying is you.
Even if there was a cure for your sickness, it still wouldn’t help.
You’re not only ill and planted in a state of despair, but you can’t even trick your own mind out to think you’re ok; the least you could do is lie to yourself, but you probably can’t because you’re too caught up in all the other tales you’re spinning.
I would ask where did you do wrong, but the more I think about it, I can’t help but think, were you ever even right?
They say there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but I don’t even think you’re even on a road, let alone to recovery.
The emptiness that occupies you makes you feel whole.
When you’re present, it’s like trying to see a vampire’s reflection.
I honestly don’t think it’s possible for you to get help.
Not even maggots want to feed off of whatever flesh you have on you.
Pretty soon the county will start denying your behavioral health bills. You’re not only wasting their money, but you’re wasting the doctor’s time.
I don’t even know if there is advice to give, it’s not even worth donating my breath. I’d rather count the holes in a wall at yet another emergency room you were admitted to; and every time I hope it is my last visit.
They say misery loves company, but you seem to have all the company you can keep. You and all your bad habits.
May God have mercy on you because not even the devil wants your soul.