drink until I pass out every day. I could sleep with anything that moves. I could turn to drugs, inject or snort or smoke anything that happened along. I could develop an eating disorder. I could self-harm. I could kill myself. Alternatively, I could be happy. (Oh wait, I was dealing with things that are even vaguely probable.)
Instead, I read. I write (or did). I disassociate. I... struggle.
I'd prefer the alcohol and unconsciousness. Stupid conscience.
1 comment:
I don't hold everything in the world at bay. And you hold away as much as I do and about as successfully, so there's no need for envy.
Besides, I wish I could believe that things will change. I can see the possibility of it. I just don't see it actually happening, especially if things continue the way they are. I wish I could just reach out and take hold of... something. Anything.
It may be strength of will (not making any specific claims on that point) but it is also cowardice. It's all rooted in fear. If you push things away, you can avoid dealing with them.
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