My brain is surly tonight. I was fine all day, floating lazily in nothingness, numb and not caring. Then I started wondering about my truth and my brain started spewing its favorite brands of vitriol at me. I was better when I wasn’t thinking. I felt better at least. To be honest, I’m not sure I felt much of anything, and that was kind of the point.

Nothing. I can’t seem to get that word out of my head at the moment. It keeps bouncing around, attaching itself to other words as though trying on a sentence like a pair of jeans. Nothing is true. I am nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing matters.

The truth is, I’m not sure that any of this does actually matter. And I can’t seem to parse the truth from the lies tonight. I’m tired. I want to sleep. I liked it better when I was disengaged. It was easier in the nothingness. I don’t want to be out of it for another minute longer.

Nothingness gives me comfort. It’s so much easier to lie to myself there. It’s easier to pretend. Easier to fake like this is all going to be okay. Like I’m okay. It’s my favorite place to hide. It keeps me safe. It gives me shelter. It’s also possible that it’s killing me very, very slowly. Still I stay, swaddled in it. I return to it. Just for one more day. Then just one day more. One more. Just one more day. The days piling onto each other, grey and indistinguishable.

I am suddenly overwhelmed by just how much I am lying to myself, and baffled as to what, exactly, is the lie.