I don’t want to be left alone in a room with only me in it. Because whatever is going on with my mind is not something I’m willing to face. If I look back, all I do is ask what the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you so sad for no reason at all?
I should be completely okay with the way things are. I shouldn’t need to find someone to help me to drown my mind in alcohol every night so I don’t freak out. I shouldn’t need to stare blankly at the bottle in my fridge every evening and consider pouring a glass. I shouldn’t need to turn to my pills instead and use them to darken the room.
I’m running towards a state of oblivion. When I should simply be heading inwards. I should stop running and turning back. Asking what the fuck is wrong in my own face. Shake myself until the words spill out.
They are too gentle with me. I need someone to dig deeper. To make me say it out loud. The words that I’m tiptoeing around all night. The feelings that I can’t bring myself to grasp. To hold. To stay here so I can have a look at you. I know you are not as easy to swallow as all the alcohol I need to in order to forget you are there. I want to keep running so that I never meet you.
I don’t remember