I might as well have them for hands.
I can barely cope with anything more than a handful and when I do try I leave behind a mess. Today started off well enough, up early for the gym, brekkie and coffee. An hour later and I was back in bed, feeling everything just collapse inside of me. I'd messaged in and said I'd been throwing up most of the night. Let's face it, it's easier to say something like that than, 'I'm feeling suicidal. Again.'
I stuck on some music, Manic Street Preachers and Radiohead, and let myself nod off into an uncomfortable sleep. Vivid dreams followed, one being about suicide. The dreams were for some reason set in the night-time which felt odd and gave it a darker edge too. After that I felt awful, my stomach felt as if I'd ingested a dozen alka-seltzers, fizzy and uncomfortable. Nerves filled me, dread permeated. My phone, when I eventually checked it had messages and missed calls noted. I still haven't checked the messages. I haven't felt this bad for a long time. I've felt off and bad but today is truly the worst. Certain pictures and sounds on the TV felt almost painful to see and hear. If I'd had some sort of decent plan and wasn't so scared I'd be able to well, you know.
Nodding off in front of that Ken Burns documentary, 'Civil War' offered some respite but as soon as I awoke it was back to that feeling again. I feel unable to talk about it as well.
My mother asked me what was wrong, what set it off? but I felt mute and said nothing.
I just can't get the words out. But then it feels easier to say nothing.
No more words.
For what is the point?
It will just be the same ones I've heard and spoken time and time again.
I'm frightened of what is to come.