UntitledEvery day I wonder if I am taking too much medication or not enoughMore Like This
The convex white discs in this bottle have so cleanly amputated the part of me that hates myself the part that aches just by being empty the part that wants to die. Despite that nothing new has grown into the vacant lot. I know these things take time but how long can people be vacant before they are plowed over bulldozed into featureless subdivisions or highrises.
The part of me that hated myself ached just by being empty wanted to die. is gone. But the vaguer ambiguous parts that panic at fleeting uncertainty, the ones that question such things as mundane as grammar or syntax only to spiral downwards wondering if this is going to be the negative thought that sends me back down into that abyss. The Marianas trench where the pressure is so great I cannot move or breathe for days. Those parts are still there. I don't hate myself ache just by being empty want to die.
But I still don't like myself. I'm still empty. I