sometimes a hand reaches into my brain, and turns it on or off. when it's off, i'm okay. i can lie on the floor and just be. i can exist, and function and smile.

when its on, i cling to my pillows at night, so that I can feel myself, and know that i haven't left yet. i pile the blankets on top of me, 3 or 4 of them at a time, and wrap my snuggie around my head, to keep myself down, to keep from floating away. i pace back and forth across my living room, wishing my cats would stop running around and just be still. but thankful for their existance because it proves im still here. i havent left yet.

i keep taking mental and physical inventory of my cabinets, and lining up the boxes and cans that are left, biggest to smallest. realizing that there's not alot of food. knowing that within a week or so, it'll all be gone and i don't have to go buy more, because i don't have a car, and i don't feel like asking anyone to take me. i remember what it felt like to exist on coffee and cigarettes. to feel that aching in the pit of your stomach, and know i created it. it wasn't caused by my father, or uncle or roommate or coworker. it was my doing, i caused it.
i can prove that i don't need anything. i can exist on nothing at all.

i'm loosing my mind. and i'm letting it happen. hell.