The demons, they creep into my head. And these days, itís getting harder and harder to tell the difference|
between their reality and mine.
They have no future, only a past.
And I have become them.
Topamax, molly, marijuana, alcohol
Drugs that were supposed to help, to numb.
When will I learn? Numbing doesnít resolve.
It only prolongs. A dam about to burst.
So I cut them out, one by one,
and begin to sort out this life.
But how could I have prepared for the flood
of sadness, of anxiety, of guilt, of anger, of regret?
Theyíve taken over, these demons.
And itís enough to send me running
for something to numb the pain.
ďFight,Ē they say, these people who love me.
ďDonít let it win.Ē
But how can they understand?
Each day I fight, just to get up out of bed,
only to be met with critique.
Each day I fight, just to plaster on the fake smile,
that has somehow become a living.
Each day I fight, just to catch a glimpse of my reality.
Once taken for granted, now lost at the surface.
Because how can I explain, when I canít even breathe?
Itís pitch black. And Iíve been treading,
chin up, sputtering, for years. Iím exhausted.
How easy it would be to just give in....