Dim.

10. Coffin.

    I've been crying myself to sleep on and off. I've been feeling empty and I can't fill myself at all. I can't feel myself at all. I feel like a different person, in this body. I'm starving and losing weight but I can't seem to put a spoon in my mouth. I don't see why that's a problem til' I'm passing out in distraught. This isn't how life is supposed to be. I'm supposed to care about my declining health. I'm supposed to care about everything that harms me. Instead I'm immersing myself into dangerous situations, situations that lead me feeling more like death than alive.

    But how else am I supposed to feel anything? How else am I supposed to feel alive? I'd rather the pain than the emptiness within me. I teach myself self control to control these feelings. Cause I know my impulsivity will leave me strung out. My mind is not at ease the way I push through all my hurt. Like binge watching TV episodes. I let it over come me. Now I'm lost. And no way to find myself in this sick drought.

    My mind is sick. Lacking in serotonin and dopamine. Lacking in sensibility. Lacking in security. I panic more than I think reasonably. My body isn't my own at times and I don't know how to find the real me. She's lost somewhere deep inside of this hollow vessel. There's nothing left in me of substance.

    I don't have anything under control. My emotions are everywhere and sometimes I feel like I'm not feeling. Like I have no emotions and that hurts more than anything. Feeling empty and alone and like nothing. Can't chase away these thoughts... maybe they were right to say I was toxic. That my being was traumatizing. That I was no good. Maybe they were right when they said I'd be better off away from society. Away from everyone and myself. Maybe they were right when they said I was better off in a coffin...

- Written on 12/27/2019.