I live on coffee and cigarettes
and what my body remembers,
my mind forgets.
I taste the rain,
that I dance in for thrills.
And bathe in the light,
of sunshine and pills.
My skin is velvet soft,
like a valium haze.
And when I float to the floor,
I embrace the carpet’s graze.
Breathing in shadows,
and exhaling smoke.
Ticking up chuckles,
snorting lines of your joke.
And the bathroom mirror,
reflects a girl I can’t feel.
The ribbons and rope,
remind me what’s real.
Free your soul,
free your breasts.
The beats that jolt you,
the strangers who become pets.
It’s all a trip,
to a place we call Numb.
And if you’re ready and willing,
we’ll all help you come.
I feel completely lost. I have no idea what to do with myself or if I’m even capable of doing anything with my life at all. My family looks at me with nothing more than disappointment, pity and slight disgust… Because I’m almost 22, I’m not a child anymore.. I should be out on my own.. In my own house.. Studying or working or doing something with my time other than getting high and trying to drown out the constant noise of my mind revolting against me.
I’m relapsing, and I can feel my Self being ripped away from my body. I’m terrified of going back to the catatonic shell of a person that I used to be.. But I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know who to ask for help or if there’s any help to be given. I’m not sick enough to go IP again, but if I wait that long… I’ll probably be dead before I get a bed.
I don’t want this anymore.. 12 years of anorexia.. I’ve let this take everything from me. My education, relationships, my family’s trust, my youth… I feel like I’m stupid, because I don’t know anything. When my friends sit back and discuss theories and art and history and what should be common knowledge… I sit in silence, because I don’t know what they’re talking about.
I don’t have goals or hopes or dreams… Because my only focus has been trying to stop myself from starving myself to death.. And even though when I’ve been in a better place throughout the years I’ve made plans and dreamed up goals and images of the life I could have one day.. I never really believe that I could do any of it.
And even though I know my doctors are right and I’ll have to deal with this for the rest of my life… I just can’t help thinking there must be something.. There must be something or someone that can help me and then.. Maybe I can have a “normal” life. I guess it’s useless thinking about it… We’ve tried everything. And I don’t want to die but the thought of living like this for another day makes me almost wish I’d never lived in the first place.
I just want to be free.. I want my life back. I want to feel the Sun’s warmth on my face and the embrace of those I call friends and the thrill of simply being here to experience this crazy existance… But I can’t seem to push through the fog. Underneath it all, I’m just sick.. And I don’t know what to do anymore. I pray to the sky and the ceiling and I close my eyes and tell myself that I’m enough and I don’t need this to cope anymore… But it never really goes away. I want to travel and see the world and find love and heartache and beauty and tragedy… But I’m so tired.. I’m so sick of myself… I feel cheated and cursed and exhausted..
Maybe tomorrow will be better…
