feeling down; taking inspiration from past writings. wondering if i have a victim complex and should read a self-help book.
Tea leaf brown are my white sheets
Though dirtier, I prefer them this way.
They familiarize me, hug my body close,
And create pockets between the button snaps
Where my tears can be caught
Darkened, dampened, I don’t consider them damaged.
They just need to be washed.
One day soon I’ll get up and strip the bed.
A cycle of whites bundled in the machine
With an ounce of care,
The sheets will be clean.
-
Maybe I’m happier when I’m miserable. When I skip my medication in the mornings, conveniently forget at night, and let the days slip by unnoticed.
I crave the stillness—the soft surrender of sleeping more and doing less.
Maybe I don’t want to be happy-
the misery is company; it’s comforting.
Its presence wraps around me like the weight of a thousand unwashed sheets, heavy and suffocating. Smiling, speaking, interacting—it’s all too arduous, too much for me.
I’ve begun to lie again. Little ones, like the whites of my eyes.
“Yes, I’m okay.”
“Yes, I’m on top of it.”
“Yes, I’ll see you soon.”
I’m feeling low today. I’ve felt low for a while now.
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