✰DARE TO GO✰ ✰FAR✰

I forgot how to write with a pencil

I got fucking yelled at for feeling 🙃

I have a love/hate relationship with being asked how I’m doing. I’m not saying don’t ask, it makes me feel good, like you asked how I’ve been feeling????!!!! Omg thank you!! You made me feel important even for just a second!!! I can’t answer the truth though, that’d be rude to say “no I’m not doing okay I’m actually doing worse. I’m tired, my mouth feels like muck. I can’t walk well, and I charged my cigarettes instead of my phone last night 🙃” but I’m also lying when I say “yeah I’m doing okay thanks”. It’s basically running face first into a wall but getting a pat on the back occasionally for taking it so well.

Something about talking to you makes me wanna watch Sabrina the Teenage Witch on a rainy morning and not have to hear my phone go off.

I don’t like waking up broken. And I don’t mean waking up emotionally broken, that’s something I do after a nap. I mean waking up not knowing what day it is, and finding out you just spent the last five hours fighting and trying to jump out of the car on the interstate because you had a seizure. Again.

Even if they knew I tried to kill myself last year, they would still be annoyed I called 911 when I woke up in the middle of it instead of getting them.

I forgot if last night was actually tomorrow and whether or not I’m dreaming right now or if I’m in a living nightmare. This is something I’d rather choke down but instead I’m throwing it all up while I gag.

I’m really sad today. I wake up and I’m just on autopilot. I put bread in the fridge. I use the wrong words for things. I feel like I didn’t used to be like this. My hand is permanently damaged from my last hospital visit. I haven’t been feeling well lately and it’s March?? When did that happen? Like the whole month of February is gone? I’m losing sense of time and I take 9 seizure meds a day. I’m tired. I’m simply tired.

It was so much easier to tell you that you had the wrong number, that it was someone else. Instead of telling you it was me still.

In reality, we are all dying. Some of us, just sooner than others. But those of us who are simply just dying faster, are we allowed to accept that sort of thing? Even if it isn’t in a way of giving up, or a way of defiance. Just a simple way to accept the fact that yes, my life has been cut just a bit shorter than the average person. No, that isn’t exactly fair. I don’t really know how much shorter. But accepting this sort of thing has opened my eyes into seeing, there is no time to waste. You’re going to stumble, even sometimes fall flat on your face, but the thing is, this is all you got, and you better take it all. Run, walk, skip even. Dance, twirl, even stop to smell the roses, this is all you have, and you better keep your eyes open.