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Pile of Sweater

Everything has fallen apart. The sweater that was unraveling, the one I kept holding together, has fallen through my hands. I loved that fucking sweater. Just a pile of string on the floor now. I can see what it used to be but I never really learned to crochet! I can't fucking fix this!!
And I'm scared. Scared to be living in the United States of Fucking Hypocrisy.
Scared to be alone. Scared to feel more pain.
The cat is projectile vomiting on the rug and she's already skin and bones.
I'm trying to submerge myself in the music because I know what happens when you submerge yourself in the darkness.
But is this really happening??
Can't I make it all stop?
Swollen eyes every day. Headache a quarter after one. Fear of the night time.
Just wanna drink and pretend that everything isn't so bad.
"Yeah we're good." Swig. Smile. Swig. Smile. Swig. Smile.
There's more I'd like to say, and I am confined.
The things I thought were impossible have revealed themselves as possible and I am stunned. Carving my heart out. Pressing my salty hand on the opening in my chest.
And the fucked up thing is...I've been holding my hand there for a long time. The burning never goes away.
The blood won't clot. "Stop!!!"
I guess I did always say, "Anything is possible!"
But this? No..
No no no..
And yet, all that's left is the dust.



Comments

  1. Hi sage, it's been ages since we last spoke. I'm going to go back through your blog to see what you have been up to. I hope you and David are doing ok. I found out on the 24th Dec I'm expecting my 4th baby.... scared is an understatement!!! Love to hear from you... Diamondbaby.... Amanda xxxx

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