Published June 24, 2013 by Johanna

We’re all sick and suffering. Dead mind inside live bodies, longing for the next drink to kill ourselves a bit deeper. Without a tear, I want to finish it all off. My feelings shut down the second I turn off the switch. I can’t love myself anymore. This story of mine won’t be funny. 

I try to laugh at myself. What a fool I am. Not so tough, not so smart, not so good looking. Just someone climbing up the invisible walls of her prison, day by day, until a potential relapse. 

I pace through the rain. Drops hit my face like a cleansing slap. I gotta let it all out. The angry voice inside my mind has to shut the fuck up and let me breathe. I’m panting. Running away from my fears. As my heartbeat intensifies, I try to slow down but can’t. This race I must win. Petty arguments won’t make me fall. Emotions running wild keep hiding me from the truth. 

My steps become quicker. I’m almost running. My thoughts take me back to the friends I used to have, liars and cheaters, who manipulated me and abused my trust. 

Break the mold. Break the fucking mold and get out of your own skin. You can do this. You’ve been through tougher crap and always made it out in one piece. 

Deep breath. Your mind likes to play tricks on you. But it’s all an illusion. An act of despair taking you down a road of nonsense. 

I hear words. Insults. “You fucked me over. Are you really my friend?” I am your friend. “You’re mean.” I am not mean. “You’re selfish.” Sometimes I am. “You’re angry.” Yes, I admit I’m angry. “You love your anger more than me.” This I’m not sure about. How much can I love my anger? It’s like a tempo in my ear, a drum beat that doesn’t stop. These words keep coming back. A loop of “yes” and “no” answers to questions that require a lengthier explanation. No one cares about my reasons for acting one way or another. I am my own judge and ruler. I know when I fuck up. I can feel it in my guts. The guilt grows, crawling up to my brains. “Let me out! Be honest for once!” I scream. How can I lie to myself? I’m used to lying. I’m used to hiding behind secrets. Do they make me a better person? They just spread like cancer, killing me softly. 

The rain pours and washes over me. Drenched in my own denial, I must accept the ugly truth. I’m only human, born with a disease that will get the best of me if I don’t accept to change.

I’m my own soldier. Fighting for my life with every breath I take. As I stand above all, I lose the weapons that made me braver than I thought. There’s no middle ground. Either I surrender or die alone. 

That rain feels warm on my skin. Just like a hot shower stream. The battle is almost over. I can sense it deep down in my heart. 

Close your eyes. Think of the world as a place where life never makes sense. You gotta adjust. Find the perimeter of your own dominion and exercise caution when using willfulness. More often than not, you must hold back. Catch your reaction before it turns you to ashes. There’s a reason why the sign “Think” is upside down in the rooms. Because your thinking process is fucked. You move sideways instead of forward. You’d rather stall than shift gears. This process will teach you how to be an adult for once. Accept it. Just give in.

There’s so much out of your control. You gotta let go. Let the stream of consciousness take you down a path you didn’t venture exploring until now. What will you find? God only knows. But at least, you’ll be alive.

Even if I don’t believe in God, the universe will give me the answer I seek soon enough. 

The rain has stopped. I’m soaked to the bones but feel better now. This sense of peace is lingering, providing me with serenity.

The fight is over. For now.

To be continued…


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