Prose and poetry

Untitled Part 83

I want to be free.

If you thought about QUEEN, you lose.

I want to be free, because I am actually a prisonner. I don't have shackles but meds, I am not in a prison but a bad tidied room. I have meals, but nothing else. Just a computer to write on or play.

I should feel bliss or joy but I live in sadness and pain.

I wake up sweating, my feet cold and my dreams about someone raping me in multiple ways rushing to me, as I take the meds that keep me alive. My limbs hurts from the muscle pain and the bruises I have from my seizures.

Happiness is there lately, in my dreams. It's been two days since my last nightmare and I feel like I was freed from a curse.

Then my demons come and harrass me to keep me from being happy.

Fun. Or not :

I have nothing more than life, and even that is taken from me. I don't have friends, or they are not what one would expect. Or what I would need.

Thanks autism.

I need someone to listen to me when I am alone with a voice explaining to me that I am a useless piece of shit.

I need someone to motivate me when I am observing the balcony, calculating how to jump and die in the least painful way possible.

I don't see anyone.