The urges are the worst.
A year of spite.
I have not touched the metal.
Now it's all I can think about.
All I can feel.
Like a phantom.
Calling me to reenact a familiar scene.
Some days.
Some nights.
All I can think about is that bottle.
Hidden away.
Waiting.
No plans.
Just fantasies from long ago.
Why did I keep it?
Why do I continue to hold it?
Why do I take it out some night.
Just to run my fingers across it and put it back.
Sometimes I think about it.
Sometimes I hear the urges whisper.
Sometimes I almost agree out of boredom.
Because what if it's always this cycle?
Then what?
Lately I have come so close.
I don't expect things to get better.
And that's okay.
It's not like I'm not use to it.
.Agonizingly Numb.
KAMU SEDANG MEMBACA
Depression Session
AcakHello, for the sake of names, you can call me Jaxin (not my actual name, but I always did love that one.) This is the storage shed for all my thoughts when I'm having one of my "sessions". This is my safe space for me the come and sort out what I'm...
