Love is a Place

I haven’t posted or written in a while. I viewed this site as basically dead, but I can still use it to write. I don’t know where to start or stop, I’m just kind of in a never-ending cycle. Day after day. I was told to help my brother with his college essay to get into nursing. I ended up writing this amazing paragraph while he was in the bathroom for 3 minutes. I’m not going to give up yet. This can’t die. It’s the only thing I’ve ever really been good at.

I used to write all the time. Everything was overflowing and I had to get something down to let it escape. I hold a lot of it in now, or dull it with drugs and alcohol. It makes me so sad that I may not even know how to write from my soul any longer. Maybe it’ll take practice? Maybe I’m just fucken drunk and took too much medication and I’m just trying to pass some fucking time.

The people around me probably haven't a fucking clue how much drugs I'm actually on and how fucked up I am. Is it worse that I'm unhealthily functioning or that I can hide it effortlessly?

I need an outlet. I feel so confined. Trapped in my monotony. It’s becoming more than I can bear. I need more meaningful conversation- not even sure how to nurture relationships anymore. I don’t want to be an island but I think I’m becoming one.

👁