So.
Maybe something happens. Or nothing happens. But you wake up one morning and realize that the floor has dropped from beneath you, and you're falling again. Maybe you ignore it. Try to drown it. Try to carve it from your skin. Maybe you consider walking away. At some point, someone will tell you that you might need some help, and so maybe you go see someone. Just like last time. And the time before that. And the time before that, and so on for the past six years, and maybe they prescribe a magic bullet to take all of your pain away. And maybe you take it. Until you you realize you don't like how it makes you feel. Or you don't take it, because you remember you don't like how it makes you feel. And then you wait. Wonder what rock bottom will look like this year. Wonder how long you'll have to stay there. Whether or not you'll survive.
I'm tired of being in my head all the time. I would like a break. And some chicken. (I'm hungry).
Peace Be
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