The pills help. Of course they help, that's what they are supposed to do. But they don't make you better, not by any stretch.
They just make you less shit.
The pills make it so the sadness can rise up and fill that horrible, empty gap that sits inside, that nothingness inside my soul. And it was that, the numbness that made everything so dark, so desolate. At least with the sadness I can see a change in me and in my moods. There are days where all the painful guilt and anger can be kept at bay...it makes things look more positive.
I can look back now and see the depression in stages, first was sadness and confusing, then anger that for years just grew, grew, grew, consuming every cell within me. A walking hate machine. And then the numbness. After all the self harm and failed suicide attempts I had nothing left. Even death, in all it's desirable freedom, didn't want me.
I had become so apathetic. My days required only a bottle and a pack of smokes. What an easy way to live, to dull the dullness with fuzziness.
But why stop there? We are creatures of consumption, an era of children born with wants. And so I became nothing more than a creature of habit. Until the habit began to expand...anything and everything.
Nothing is enough anymore. I'm constantly trying to find ways to feed each and every little habit.
Soul-sucking and life-fuckingly wondrous habits.
Even with the one person who is my only chance at something real and kind and healthy, my thoughts struggle to deal with the day to day realness of sobriety. Knowing I could lose the one that I live for still doesn't seem enough to keep these needy, slimy fucking cravings at bay.
In a place where everything you could want or need, is at your fingertips, but with only willpower to keep you from it all, only you and your already smeared conscience to control the want...how long can such a weak person last? Because to stay sober is fucking hard for someone who wants to feel something more than pain for just a small while. To be sober, fills that sadness with an even deeper emptiness of knowing who you are...the type of person you would become if left to your own devices.
Nothingness of a different kind.
