Weak

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Pills. I feel the pills in my hand. Indeed more. Need. Never wanting, needing. Necessary. Necessary for my existence. To live. To keep me alive. I don't want to live. I can't. I can't do this 'life' thing anymore. I cannot. I grab the bottle. I observe it. I break into it, placing more and more pills into my small, fragile hands. My hands shake. I shake. My world is shaking. My world is a corrupted one, full of earthquakes and bombs. Disaster. Fear. I can't break anymore. I let myself go, instead. I place the pills on my tongue. A bottle of water is grasped in my shaky hands. So fragile. I pull the bottle to my lips. I let the water flow into my mouth. I swallow the pills, feeling nothing. The lump in my throat dissolves. Myself. Disappearing. I disappear. I change into clothes. Too big for me. My fragile self. My old self. I lay down into my bed. My sheets of sorrow and shame cover me. I look so broken. Fragile. Small. And all at once, I become numb again. I close my eyes. Weak.

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