I heavily debated publishing this one. One thing is it represents a person that no longer exists. Another part of me says it contains loops that will never close. And another part of me says it’s still relevant. I am beginning to feel it is no longer relevant.
“
Monday felt like my first day in hell, and I did the tour last year.
That woman in my bed doesn’t even care about me.
I haven’t worked out in two days, and yet my body refuses to heal.
I organize endless files for some company I guess.
I can’t even wrap my head around the existence of myself as I sit here or stand there.
I am so, so strong. I am so, so smart. Yet no one can see it. Not even me.
Everything I do is just for this endless slog of validation and I can’t even get that all the time.
I grasp at dead people.
No, I claw at them, and their souls wiggle away from me like dug up parasites I had a symbiotic relationship with and I starved them out. They’ve replaced every organ in my body.
I yell at them. Who are you? What have you done to him? Do not run, you have stolen every piece of him and he cannot put himself back together.
Just because you found the pieces in the trash doesn’t mean it’s yours.
Why did you promise? Why? I went to your funeral.
You were laying in the casket, the single flower I picked for you in your hands.
Give them back. Pieces of mind, so I can have peace of mind. I will dig up your corpse to get it all back.
-God damn it, you fell into the hole again, and you will dig yourself out again.
Just keep it lowkey. Keep the stimulants away for a minute, keep the alcohol content low, don’t listen to desire at this time. You will come back from this again.-
I left myself a note on my bedroom door.
It says, “God is testing you. I love you.”
“
I was told I need to write more about what I notice, not what I feel. I will try, but sometimes all I can do is feel it. Cornball.
Forest
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