My mother once told me I should make a list of things that make me happy.
I'm not good at these kinds of things. For a long time now, everything has felt so heavy.
There is the weight of repressed memories sitting on my shoulders. My own thoughts are so loud, they make my head pound sometimes.
Your mouth has burned holes in my skin on every place you've every kissed. I'm smoking too much cigarettes and drinking too much.
I'm ruining myself. I don't think I know what happy is anymore, when everything I do is just a temporary solution to fill the emptiness in my life.
Often I catch myself wondering if I will feel like this forever. Because it's months later and I'm still staring at a blank list.
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Recovery
PoetryWritings that helped me recover and will hopefully help you. Some might be mine.