HABITS

//read left first, then right. centred with both//

I have bad habits.

I have good habits.

But it’s okay.

But that is not okay.

No.

No.

It’s not supposed to be dangerous.

It’s supposed to be more dangerous.

It was never supposed to spin so far out of control.

It’s so scary to have control.

But that’s why they’re called bad habits, right?

But that’s why they’re called good habits, right?

Because they’re damaging.

Because they provide safety.

NO.

IT. IS. NOT. THAT. SIMPLE.

My habits destroy me.

My habits save me.

Kill me.

Keep me alive.

Tear me to pieces.

Hold me together.

Hurt me.

Drive the pain away.

Suffocate me.

Let me breathe.

Poison me.

Cleanse me.

Contaminate me.

Rid me of illness.

My eyes scream

My eyes beg

not for safety.

not for destruction

rather for destruction.

rather for safety.

NO.

My soul screams

My soul cries

not for refuge.

not for danger

rather the two most simple words

rather the two hardest words

“r u i n   m e.”

“h e l p   m e.”

I cry.

Tears stain my cheeks

the salt burning my raw skin

contaminating me with disease,

SADNESS.

Tears stain my cheeks

the salt hydrating my skin

ridding me from stress,

RELIEF.

I drink.

Liquor stings my throat

the alcohol drowning my veins

poisoning me with delusion,

DEMENTIA.

Liquor stings my throat

the alcohol coursing my veins

cleansing me of bad memories.

ESCAPE.

I smoke.

Vapors fill my lungs

the nicotine strangling my chest

suffocating me with daze,

UNCONSCIOUSNESS.

Vapors fill my lungs

the nicotine releasing my chest

letting me breathe free of anxiety,

LIBERATION.

I claw.

Nails scrape out my skin

the wounds missing from my body

hurting my hollowed heart,

EMPTINESS.

Nails scrape out my skin

the wounds replacing what’s missing

driving the pain from my heart,

SATISFACTION.

I cut.

Blades slitting across my wrist

the blood drips down

tearing apart my soul,

BROKEN.

Blades slitting across my wrist

the blood drips freely

fusing the pieces of my soul together.

FREEDOM.

I try to take my life.

Ropes, pills, bullets,

over and over and over

countless times,

killing me.

proving me right.

I. AM. NOT. WORTH. ENOUGH. TO. LIVE.

Ropes, pills, bullets,

over and over and over

countless times.

not succeeding.

proving me wrong.

I. AM. WORTH. MORE. THAN. THIS. LIFE.

I HAVE LOST THIS WAR.

I  HAVE WON THIS WAR.

it gets better.