This is what You think.

You think I’m out with people.

Late at night I dance with beer sloshing out of my bottle
and straws flicking out of my thin, bending cup.

I’m busy on my phone
collecting up all the people I dropped in the past year.
I’m meeting people left right and center, going to the movies and having dinner by the lake.
You think I’m doing that
and not laying on the basement carpet staring at the water stains on the ceiling.
You think I’m blasting through this like it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done
but I’m here
I’m flipping right here
in the square middle of my bed under my covers with new tears running over the dried tears
with no desire to see or talk to any soul but you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fack.

I hate that you think I’m not doing what I am.

 

A Thousand

Highs and Lows. We’ve all got them. A thousand of them.

These days, I find myself baffled to sickness-at how quick one can go from being grinny and positive, to the bottom of the bucket. Sad. Negative.

We are affected.

And sometimes, I just don’t want to be.

I don’t think I’ve ever had the yern for a stable life. I didn’t know that was a thing I didn’t have. Or else I did and didn’t admit it. But going from one extreme to the other so quickly, is not healthy. It isn’t. I feel myself lurching into the same darkness everytime the low blasts into feelsight. A ocean with a thousand waves, a thousand feet high. And I’m wanting only, to be a thousand feet under.
I do not embrace the low well, any longer. I just want them to stop.
I just want to stop them.

And sometimes,
mostly all the time,

the only way I want to do that is to stay

a thousand feet under.