day by day

again.

it's bad again.

and for once in my 6 year long fight,

I don't know what to do.

I don't know what will make me better.

I don't know what triggered it.

I just want to sleep, all the damn time.

fuck, I went to bed at 3pm yesterday and almost didn't get up at 7pm when my body woke me up.

I went from my usual bedtime at 12am, to going to bed at 9pm.

believe me when I say, I am exhausted.

yes I usually get tired, but never so tired that I give up talking to Tristan till all hours of the night.

because that's my therapy.

and I gave that up last night.

because I am exhausted

i'm tired of the pointless fliting, the misdirected feelings.

the arguing.

the awkward eye contact in public.

acting like we never met.

I'm tired of the regret.

of wanting to kiss the girl but deciding she wouldn't kiss me back, only to find out she would've.

i'm tired of being scared.

and that night.

the rum, made me forget all of this,

the cancer, the kissing, the fears, the unbearable lightness of being.

all of it, was gone. for a night.

minus the waking up to drunk texts, whether sent or just written out.

and their obvious uninterest in you now.

the people who said they'd love you forever, the people who promised they wouldn't ever leave you.

those were the ones who said they didn't want anything to do with you-drunk or sober-

and god, if you didn't miss them when you're sober.

throw some rum in there and deal.

I promise you, missing them-or that one person- is a hell of a lot harder when you've replaced your blood with rum.

but, that one moment, just that second even, where your brain is completely empty, is so fucking worth the 4 shots and 5 mixed drinks that are destroying your body with every single sip.

all of it for that.

but you don't stop there.

no.

keep going, keep drinking.

keep drinking until your thumbs barley work well enough to type out your pathetic "I miss you" text.

till you can barely push 'send'

and when you're done that glass, go downstairs and pour yourself another one.

because there's no other way you can think to harm yourself fatally then to do it from the inside out.

and theres no other way so satisfying.

minus, kissing the boys I always told you not to worry about, but I had to settle.

I don't want to hurt you. please don't think that's what i'm going for here.

I want to hurt myself.

I want to kiss boys who don't care about me.

I want to drink enough alcohol that I finally start to think about me, and worry about me, instead of you, for once in my goddamn life.

but I can't.

so, it gets bad again.

but never to the point where I can't do it on my own.

because then I'd have to worry about me.

and quite frankly, I don't have time for that.

healing, is a tedious process, and it gets bad, and some times it becomes unbearable.

but fuck if I am going to lose this fight.

I did NOT make it this far, to only make it this far.

6 years, almost 7, I am not going down without a fight.

so yes, it is bad again.

but please, do not worry about me.

I've got this.