saturday, 20 august, 2022 | 01:45
i do not have the wherewithal to make this sound pretty. i do not have the energy to conjure up metaphors and similes. i feel trapped in the prison that is my skin and i want to be rid of it.
i want to crumble. fall to my knees and let them crack against the concrete. rest my head on your thigh while your hand rests in my hair and i want you to turn my brain off. not in a sexual way. i want you to take my autonomy for then at least it feels like a choice. not a sudden and visceral loss of control.
i want to smother this feeling into submission. this feeling where i'm not really feeling, where i've become disconnected and floaty but still so heavy and tense in my skin. sometimes i think i'm dissociating but i'm never really sure. the outside world turns itself off. i'm aware but cannot tune back in. it doesn't feel important to tune back in. all of my awareness shift inward and suddenly i am desperate to claw myself out of my skin until i am rid of bumps, blood and breath.
everything i try makes it worse. a temporary reprieve that then makes everything hit so much harder, sharper. worse. i drink. i eat. i smoke up. i take my stupid prescription. i shower. i sleep. i stay up. i read, i write, i walk.
i feel like i did when i ODed. lethargic. heavy. my mind running a mile a minute and unable to latch on to any single thing. sleeping to get rid of the sensation. waking up and not knowing if i'm bothered because the feeling's still there or because i managed to wake up at all.
i don't know what i expect anyone to do about it. like letting someone enable my cycle of self-destructive behaviour by making me submit, by making me sink so low i never resurface again. i don't want to resurface again.
i am so fucking tired.
- colin
