04/24/2013

Sometimes I feel empowered, like I might actually have some kind of agency in my life.  And in those moments my mind screams at me about learned helplessness and chemical imbalances and all the shit that’s logical and textbook.

And then I’m standing in my bathroom, throwing pills down my throat with a fucking razor in my hand and I don’t even know why.  I don’t want to feel anything.  I don’t feel anything.

There is nothing inside of.  There is something inside of me.  Something I am afraid to be.

That’s not true, though. I am nothing.

I dedicate a fair amount of time and energy to hiding it, to hiding how fucking low I’ve gotten, but when you’re drunk at 2:00 PM for the third day in a row it gets really fucking hard to hide it.  I don’t want to be my father, but I just need to stop.  I can’t keep going on like this, with my thoughts, with knowing what a waste of space I am.  There is nothing good about me.