I’m sinking fast under the feeling that there is something horribly and tragically wrong with me. Thoughts are stampeding through me head; some that seek to prove that feeling true and others trying desperately to defend me against it. This struggle is all too familiar. I want to shrug and say tonight that it really doesn’t matter. Either way I’m just going to get up from here, brush my teeth, put on my pajamas and get into bed. Whether I’m a pathetic leech who poisons the world around me just by breathing in and out, or a sad sack caught in an illusion of self-loathing that’s hurting only me, this body will reach the same conclusion of this day. It will sleep. And tomorrow it will wake to rise again.
The truth is, I don’t think it serves me well–oblivion. And I find that to be a terrifying prospect. Oblivion seems to make my continued existence possible. I can’t and don’t want to imagine life without it. Yet, I think it hurts me. Like cigarettes did. Like alcohol and drugs did. Like sticking a finger down my throat did. My addictions have fallen like dominoes in extreme slow-motion. The fall of one revealing the next that stands behind it. I quit smoking over two months ago. Now I have sugar. I have TV, books and daydreams. Whatever escape I can find. Can cling to. Can crawl into and hide. Like caverns just big enough to house my crumpled form. Where I can find respite. Where I can ignore the way my stomach curdles from fear.
I feel disgusting. I haven’t been feeding myself well since my family left. It’s warm in my apartment tonight and I’m covered in a thin film of sweat. I never brushed my teeth today. Aside from walking my dog, which I did the requisite three times, I have been on my couch engrossed in novels since I dragged myself out of bed a little before 11 AM. It’s easy to hate myself tonight. I don’t even know anymore how much that matters. I’ll fall asleep, wake up to my alarm, and have the busy day that’s already set out for me tomorrow. I’ll survive. It’s what I seem to do.