So, I don't want to be stuck in this funk, but I have accepted the fact that I am at LEAST a temporary resident. I have to be, it is healthy to stay a while in order for me to get things back to good. So, I backed my moving truck up and quit trying to get out of it.
You should see my place here, the walls around it reach the sky.
You sweep everything under the rug. Even though eventually it seeps out & everyone can see your dirt.
Every meal they serve around here is full of regret and sugar. Both are terrible for you.
Plenty of booze, but it's like they don't work anymore because you can still feel.
All the windows are drawn shut. But you don't sleep. Ever.
The lights are always off, but your thoughts are always on.
Hugs are the worst here cause they make you remember...and feel...and cry.
Every mirror is a distorted image of yourself, so you never feel pretty. So you stop caring.
Every morning you take your very hard to swallow pill & every day it gets stuck in your throat. And it sits there. All. Day.
You are forced to bring the giant elephant that sits on your chest all day to sit in the room with you when you try to socialize. Stupid elephant.
I hate it here.
At least I know where I am and I'll be out of here soon, I hope.
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