All I knew was that I was hurt.
I started crying and went into the lounge.
I cried for a while. I cry differently on meds. It’s more like... I don’t know. Unrelenting. Heavy. Not cleansing or liberating. It’s like I have metal in my mouth, my head, and my breath.
I cried and cried, and then I threw up in the kitchen sink. Emotion makes me gag and throw up these days. A lot of things make me throw up these days.
And I couldn’t stop crying. I felt like I wanted to scream but all that could come out was tears, like I had to cough them out, and they were streaming out of me like vomit.
My vision went all fucked-up, like blurry and greyish, and I felt TRAPPED, like this, the tears, the confusion, was my new reality, and I couldn’t get out but I needed to !!!DO SOMETHING!!! because everything was spinning and coiling up inside me at warp speed, without pause, just going going GOING.
Something pushed me to start pacing up and down the lounge, like that was all I could do. I was shaking and everything fucking HURT, like something died. Like death had visited upon my doorstep.
And I looked at a picture of Dad, my beloved father, and it was like I’d been pistol-whipped across my face; I fucking FELT it and it utterly terrified me and I couldn’t look anymore, I couldn’t bear to look, I just wanted it to go away, all of it, all of it, all of it, but I was stuck.
And everything hurt to witness: the ashtray. The pens scattered on the desk. One mint sweet wrapper. Our little bookshelf. His jacket... draped across the chair, lying just so, that I felt such pain for it. And I know I would felt the same way if it had been folded neatly on the bed, or hung up on a hanger in the closet, or laying in the laundry basket. I knew it because I have felt that way more times than I can count.
He came to me and held me, calmed me, but he couldn’t understand, because I couldn’t explain it. He told me I need to keep taking my meds, that that is why I’m feeling this way. And I said yes, yes, I know, I know. I told him I would take them. I told him that I don’t want him to worry about me. I told him I was sorry for crying, sorry for being a burden, and he said that I am not.
And I went to bed with my head and heart still reeling, doing my utmost best to contain it.
I forgot to take my meds.
vaporwave
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
ellievsbear
amandla
prguitarman
kianamaiart