Numb but not quite

7:57am

Thursday morning, I haven’t seen 6:30am in a long time. I have stopped crying but my head is pounding. I feel calmer but that sort of calmness that can be deadly but I am unbothered, sort of numb but not quite.

I hesitantly wear my dark blackish-grey jeans I haven’t worn in months, I am terrified of jeans. I button them up they feel bigger, they are drooping and I refuse to wear to wear a belt I want to SEE the creases were my flesh once occupied but no longer there. The serial weight fluctuator that I am wants to feel it for it will not last long.

I grab my textbooks… I refuse to go digital, books should be  tangible and felt not stored in some device. My bag is heavy and I know my shoulders will pay for this later. Food doesn’t interest me… not on this particular morning at least. On an empty stomach feeling so glorious and empty I head out the door and it feels like am been set free (well only momentarily) from this house of horrors, when the day ends I will be back here again to the unforgiving tedium. The rage. The hurt and and and.

23:22

No crying tonight lest my head explodes, no sad songs or tears on my pillow. The lorazepam is still unopened, it makes it worse like the downward spiral is drawn-out and much more profound, the drowsiness, forgetfulness leave much to be desired. In a sort of masochist kind of way I’d rather remain present while I go through the motions of depression/anxiety.

My body is spent from all the walking while I was on a birthday present hunt, I almost fainted before jumping into the bus- so classy. My shoulders ache from slouching on a desk studying for hours. Tonight I’ll sleep soundly, that I know for sure. It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay.

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