I just want to write.
I want to write.
I want all of the hurt and the sad and the pain to just flow out
Pouring like a waterfall on to the paper.
But I can't uncap the bottle.
I can't fill up the page.
I can't write about what it was like when you left,
The one who was supposed to raise me.
I can't write about what it felt like without you,
The ones who were supposed to stay by my side.
I can't write about what it was like to recover,
The number of days clean are nothing to me.
I can't write about all of these things because they're all in the past tense,
As if I've moved on.
I refuse to write lies.
I experience all of it,
All at once- all the time.
I spend thirty minutes every morning in suffocating loneliness, staring at an empty brick wall
Every. Fucking. Morning.
I spend hours every night, staring at a dar, ceiling in agonising sadness,
Every. Fucking. Night.
The rubber band around my wrist is my best friend, my one true companion,
But, even that's not enough anymore.
Nothing is enough anymore.
