23.06.03 - 6:09 PM
It comes in waves and I wish I could just get up and walk away, head for the shore, feel the sands of letting go beneath my feet.
You don't quite understand what it is like to be this alone, this afraid. These waves become more tidal and I am more heavy, no longer thrown on the surface. It's a steady way down from here on out.
It's a weak position to be in and I am afraid. Nature plays tricks and the chemicals in my body are imbalanced and bottles of pills are a fucking metaphor for learning how to swim.
Or was it the other way around? Is there an other way? I reply on the power of my mind to find me land, yet I am too far gone, too far out of this mind and so I am no longer sure what it is that I rely on. I am like a pirate alone on sea, a patch covering up where my mind is missing and a teloscope constantly searching for ground to step on.
Only none of these analogies mean a shit because even as I write this, even as I scream this, I am alone in and out of my own skin. I am alone because I am so gone, so vacant that even I cannot keep myself company any longer.
It's as though I've gone away and left behind a carcass with a pounding heart, a husk, an empty bottle.
Either metaphor leaves me feeling inanimate, all I can do is lie and grip onto bed sheets and hope that I am not washed away by these waves, these tidal monstrosities that, if I weren't so far gone, I would realize have already
swept
me
a
w
a
y.
I am washed up/ down.
