The Sickness

I don't know. I'm here, aren't I? She asked me if I wanted to go out with her today. I do. I'm anxious for the comapny. I've spent days inside these four walls alone. Talking to myself, inventing pathways in which my life would be different if I had just made a different choice. It doesn't have to be a major choice you know. It can be as simple as what bottle of juice I pick up. You never know what can change the future. Do I even have a future? Or is life just a series of in the moment blocks because a future is not guarenteed for everyone. My heart could stop at any minute. Or my lungs. Or something a little slower. My liver could stop working. I need to get out of my head. Thinking and thinking is driving me to the point of insanity. But I'm afraid to. I don't want to leave my creature comforts. I've found myself inside this little cubical over the past few weeks. Thinking, working things out, deciding who and what I want to be and where I want to go with things. They were there for me, sitting watching with curiosity as I worked late into the night. Memos written in blood and ink cover the desk. Pencil drawings are scattered on the floor and some are taped to the wall. I've been more visual lately. More creative. Expressing things that had long been since bottled up. I've been putting things down on paper that I never thought I would. Being open and honest about issues that I had long been too ashamed to speak about are now at the foreground of my mind. Is this healing? Or is this opening up the door to another catastrophic breakdown? Sometimes the time goes by fast. And other times, painfully slow, you know? You can feel the seconds in your breath as you inhale and exhale. Every second passing you by while you sit still, unable to do anything because you're drained of energy...despite sleeping 10 hours the previous night. I can't put it down to oversleeping. There are some nights where I can't sleep at all. I lay in bed watching programme after programme, always keeping an eye on the time in thr right-hand corner of the screen. I couldn't even tell you what I was watching. It's just images and background noises. People I will never meet preteding to be other people. It sounds sort of like the internet when I put it that way. I don't feel good. The light hurts my eyes and my head is pounding like a bass drumb. My stomach is tied up in knots and the nauesea is causing me to dry heave. I have nothing in me to come out. I hate feeling like this. The pain from my head slowly makes it's way down my temples and down my spine. I feel like an overcooked noodle, but that's not the point. I've been feeling rough more and more. Eating calcoum carbonate ultra strength chews day after day hoping that it somehow calms whatever toxic soup is boiling away insidee of me. I ache in ways I didn't know that I was able to ache. It's raining again and I feel like I can breathe. The dark and gloomy days cloak me. They make my sadness and numbness feel okay. I feel almost comfortable. I hold my words in, my silence my strength and greatest enemy. When it rains I'm able to sleep well. The pitter patter of the rain drops colliding with the roof only a mere few feet above my head does something to calm me. There's something refreshing about nature; not the concreate jungle that I live in. Even though I've been sleeping more due do a decent dose of trazodone and and edible late in the afternoon, I'm still exhasuted. My body needs a rest that only the rain can do. I lay close to the windows on the floor so that as the wind blows, raindrops drift into my windows and cool my feverish skin.