#c.g.k

[norecoverytime]

To be honest, I feel like if we just have all our arguments stoned, we're good lmao

// c.g.k, I just wiped my nose and I thought my red nail polish was blood but I'm fine it's snot

[norecoverytime]

He was always my

patch w o rk disaster beauty.

My frayed, stained quilt sewn by drunk angels.

He's my nostalgic heartbreak from the box under the bed you fulled with old movie tickets and stickers you just didn't want to put on anything--they're just too good.

I don't want him the way he stands still. I want him the way he smears black and red ink across my whole damn life.

Even when he's fragmented, jagged,

he matches.

His dirty shirt with holes, hes lying like he's cool, they're not burn holes, it's just old.

And it needs some patches.

He was arguably the most resourceful,

but still never did get those boy scout badges.

// C.G.K, Husband of mine.

(There, now it's perfect)

[norecoverytime]

200 days sober and I would like to celebrate by getting hammered on rot-gut whiskey in a hammock with you. How would they know? It wouldn't be me, spilling the beans.

// C.G.K, The title was never important but we were

[norecoverytime]

what if we were both the vampires and

we were starving because there was nothing

to feed off of

//c.g.k, No Recovery Time

[norecoverytime]

I don’t drink anymore, but remembering you is like getting drunk off the condensation; I didn’t even mean to.

[norecoverytime]

I felt you untie the knot

[norecoverytime]

I would still like to point out, I only ever mourned our relationship out loud.

[norecoverytime]

I’ve been in the hospital for 4 days and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to end any time soon. My oxygen was 68%, unbeknownst to me, could have taken me outta the world.

Today, I was really trying to go home, I have so much life to get back to, my work program, going back to school, gotta send transcripts, oh it’s 4/20, oh need to laundry, court date?? Lawyer, DEBT! Bills, dogs need to pee! Did you eat today? Gotta choose between bipolar meds and respiratory meds.

Choose wrong and you end up in the hospital.

Choose wrong and you end up dead.

I feel like I was just destined to end up here, no matter what I chose.

I feel that way a lot lately.

Two seemingly helpful and wonderful things to keep me alive, but without the right one, whichever one it was supposed to be,

I still end up here, wondering why I have to choose which way I might die, every fucking day.

I’m exhausted and I’m expected to walk through life feeling abandoned constantly by life and love,

But I still chose to take the bipolar medication,

I don’t want to kill myself, and I don’t want to die.

Every choice I make takes something away, even if I can’t survive without it.

Do I need to be able to breathe or do I need to be able to care that I’m breathing?

I feel like life doesn’t want me here, and I’m an unkillable bug.