I’m done coping, making the best of it, being a cautious optimist, and patting myself on the back for doing absolutely nothing.
I’m done with limits, extracting positives from the impossibly negative. I’m done with drugs. Drugs to make me feel anything but the truth. Drugs that fix one problem while creating a dozen more.
I’m done pushing, fighting, pretending.
I’m done lying. It won’t be fine, I won’t be okay. I’m dying faster than I’m living.
I’m angry. Angry at the world, angry at myself, angry at my anger.
I’m human. Vulnerable, fragile, affected. I want to lose control. To fall apart. To give up, give in, and check out.
But I can’t, and I don’t even know why.