I'm sitting alone in my room,
staring across from my filthy bed at my filthy pile of random shit I once valued.
Waiting for the medication to take effect, the years of drug abuse and neglect have seriously hampered my chemical balances, and now I can no longer just push through my depression like I once did.
My once beautiful body has become a soft and somewhat formless cage, about as restrictive as my own thoughts, but enough to keep me in chains. I no longer smile...I want to but the missing teeth make an instant monster of me in this world of beautiful people with beautiful teeth, nice clothes, perfect hair, smooth skin, and ugly ugly souls.
I like to think that there is still some part of me that is pure, that somewhere underneath all of my self indulgent whining and desperate pleas for somebody to please come and care, that maybe there is some part that is still strong, and young, and brave.
I should go get my methadone now, since without it I will be a pants shitting mess, writhing in pain. There's a part of me that thinks that is exactly what I deserve.
People will tell you all sorts of things, they will tell you that everything will work out. They'll also tell you that ANYBODY can make it rich or successful, that you just have to try.
What they won't tell you is the truth. That they don't really want you to be ok, that as long as you are down they get to feel better about themselves, and that every time you fail there is a certain satisfaction in having known already that you would, they won't tell you this because they can't even admit it to themselves.
I don't know why I don't just hang myself other than that I'm curious, and that I still hope that one day life will be exciting again, that I will feel like something is beautiful for more than just a fleeting moment tainted by sorrow, and that one day I will look back and own all of it. That all of the people who watched me suffer, kicked me while I was down or turned their backs when I needed them will be afraid.
Afraid because I broke out of the role that comforted that shitty evil place in the human soul that enjoys watching you fail.
the part of all of us that says "I feel better because I'm not you"
I hope that day comes, but like them I'm not holding my breath.
