Letters from sixteen

As the day goes by

Poems capturing a day in my life.

9:02 AM
I didn't sleep much last night, not much at all.
I only became tired after sunrise, so I now sip on a bitter cup of coffee.
I enjoy my sleepless nights if I intend for them to be that way.
I enjoyed myself last night, writing, listening to my favorite songs, and talking to a friend.
I wrote about my sorrows as a means to not carry them into the sunlight, although I'm not sure it worked.
I listened to a song on repeat, this song left me feeling understood in a way I don't often experience.
I talked to my friend who always knows how to support me.
He reads more into my writing than I do.
I nearly cried when he told me I was more than an addict, because although it goes unnoticed it is all consuming.
Now I sit next to the sunrise, hopeful for the day ahead.

11:29 AM
I sat on the back porch with my mom and talked about the police report.
It's not far from now, not far at all.
I don't know what to expect, my mother told me what may come and I am beyond terrified.
I'm happy that there's a chance I am helping someone else avoid the childhood I had, but I am scared.
I am unsure of what lies ahead, but I hope it's better than waiting for him to hurt someone else.
Will I have to see him in court?
I don't want to think about it, I can't.
After this conversation I went out and got drunk in the bathroom of a Mexican restaurant.
She gave me a strange look, I don't blame her, but I did what I did.
I've gotten more used to the taste, it used to make me sick, but nowadays coffee is more bitter.
I can't stop thinking about it. Seeing his face as he pretends to be someone else.
I've numbed myself out and it's still on my mind.

1:56 PM
My mother is always the most suspicious of me, she has reason to be, but I hate being treated like an addict.
She went through my bags before I left her house, she opened everything and looked in every possible place it could be hiding.
She seemed gulty when she left, with nothing to prove her point really.
She wasn't wrong, last weekend she would have found what she was looking for, maybe the weekend before I can quite remember.
She didn't find anything, that's what really matters, that's all I care about.
I know what I am, I know I have a problem, I am not pretending otherwise, but I hate being treated like I'm a relapse waiting to happen.
They aren't wrong, I am a relapse that has already happened, so I guess I have no room to speak.
I have a sense that I am walking in the same circles I always do expecting things to be different.
They are different, worse that is, but people like me don't change unless they really want it, and I don't have any sense.

7:37 PM
I called a friend on the phone today, he said I was paranoid.
I frequently forgot where I was going, I'd have to ask myself moments after remembering.
I seemed to calm down once the warm feeling entered my body.
I often wonder if I think too much about the things I do, but I don't see that changing.
I rambled, I laughed, maybe I stumbled a bit but I was happy.
Once I arrived home we talked for much longer. I don't know the time frame because I can't seem to stay on the phone.
I nearly fell asleep on my bedroom floor but I didn't.
As the day comes to an end I wonder what I do when the warm feeling leaves me and I'm left in my natural state.