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SIATSIA Excerpt 3

April 16, 2013

today was not good.  January 17, 2009

at all.

i want to write and let it out, but can’t. once i do, there’s no going back. no undoing of the mess, the shitstorm. today, not so much this very moment as three hours ago, i felt like i was 12 again. i walked into traffic. i didn’t  mean to. but i didn’t not mean to. i don’t know what i was thinking. i wasn’t thinking at all. i just stepped out into the street and waited. jesus. i should be grateful for people’s good brakes, i guess.

i can’t be this sick again. not now. just one little thread left of me… can’t do this. can’t get sick. but i can’t stay with bryan. can’t do this to him. can’t go back to the doctor here. can’t deal with more meds. can’t not take them. can’t take them. can’t deal with parents. it’s not their fault. i just can’t face them again like this. and i can’t do this for the rest of my life. it will never, ever change.

i try to remember. this is how it is. this is the “disease” at its worst. that’s what i’m told, what i’m supposed to believe. and i should trust them because…? and i should trust therapy? medications? smiles that say i’ll be okay if i just keep doing this bullshit?

i don’t want to be okay. i want to be fucking perfect. i don’t want to hear this shit in my head as i try to fall asleep. but it’s like listening in on a thousand angry conversations, none of them mine, none of them my business…but they’re all yelling at me anyway. and they don’t STOP.

can’t tell anyone. it always hurts, and more than me. hurts Them. will hurt danny, bryan, jinny, tim. so i don’t ever tell them about the nonstop screaming i try to tune out. means hospital. means losing time on their count instead of on my own. at least, at least when i lose time on my bill, i know where my mind’s been: if i had a hammer, a screw driver, i’d stab the bullshit out and just let my brain be quiet, let my eyes smile. why can’t i smile? why can’t i smile?

instead, i hit as haard s i cannn.could. withthe hum annatomy book. really hard. again adn agaim, and agaainn. sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. whiskey. and it’s  beetter than tha alternative, no sleep, loud yelling, failking pain. i do my job, i do my job you fuckface, now shutgup and let me sssleep.


From → fiction, SIATSIA

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