The first time someone prescribes you pills.
It’ll feel like you’re broken.
I can’t fix this part of my brain.
Maybe these little hard white lumps can.
Maybe I’ll stop repeating.
Stop dreaming.
Maybe I’ll release memories.
Stop trying to control parts of my life that make me sick.
I’ll stop skipping beats.
Stop obsessing. ....obsessing....obsessing.
Caught myself saying ‘bleeding’ over and over today.
Because I was bleeding.
Like a tick. Like a clock. Rhythmic and unnoticeable.
I suddenly stopped when I felt my mouth moving more and more frequently.
This is something I don’t think I’ve done before, unless I was drunk.
I feel crooked.
Spell words incorrectly. Panic.
Why did I do that?
Erase.
Rewrite.
I pause. Miss a word. Blanks in my brain plague me.
Dull on the end
I’m noticing every small change.
Every breath.
Every creak of this bar chair I’m in.
And I’m writing in a bar full of people.
Thank goodness these make me not give a fuck about people staring.
I’m still counting days waiting for the next big thing.
I don’t have my hopes up about much.
I’ve learned to not ask for the sun too often.
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