Whenever I’ve written in the past, I’ve always wanted to be light and airy, never too dark. Always redemptive, always hopeful.
Wrap it all up in a big fucking bow.
Glad that my good friend reminded me, I hate fucking bows.
I feel like a shell lately. Teetering between spontaneous combustion and completely empty. Numb. I hate the spontaneous combustion. But the numb? Lemme get summa that. Because my emotions have been a rollercoaster.
My flashbacks and nightmares have been getting worse. I feel the pain of what happened. Like i was just flayed in half. I feel it. The panic is back too. I’ve got this disgusting habit of picking and all I can do is pick. And bite my lips. None of it is even slightly attractive. But I’m not sure I even want to be that anymore, or that I even care.
Another weird side effect. The other day I came home from work, and I could hear my heartbeat. I hate the sound. It makes me panic. Then I spiral. So I took 1mg of my Xanax. And holy shit. It was the most calm, most at peace I’ve felt in *months*. Maybe even years? I was numb. The kind that puts you right to sleep, a blank canvas of nothingness.
I feel awful that I loved it. Maybe more so that I crave it. Because I just want sleep. And peace. No nightmares, no shaking. No crying. Just a minute where I’m not on edge.
Because most days I feel like a shell. I’ve prepared myself in advance with conversations and smiles to keep people at bay.
But the other day? That was pure bliss. And I wasn’t wondering if I wanted to die or if I wanted to live. I just existed in that bubble. Feeling nothing. Being nothing. Not really existing. Just.