The walls of my apartment get smaller. Cue the tunnel vision. Add in the shallow breathing, the racing thoughts, all the ingredients for a decent breakdown. This has become my drug. Toe the line. Look over the edge. Smile sincerely.
I'm back on solid ground, now. Tears stream down my face. I think of her, and then push the memory of her face deep down inside. Deal with it later. You've gotta get past this. Lie to yourself if you have to. With a shaky hand i grab my bottle of pills, and take the recomended amount, nothing more. I close my eyes and wait for it to pass. My apartment is a disaster, and it matches how i feel on the inside. There's gotta be a better way.
Sometimes i feel like the answer is right there, has been all along, but i just can't seem to grab it. Maybe the truth is that i really don't want to, as i've become accustomed to this. I just wanna get over her. But seeing her every day the wounds reopens anew. I don't wanna hurt anymore. I curl into a ball, grit my teeth, and pray that the coming storm is short.
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