Last night, while high on Nyquil, I wrote this little poem:
Doubts creep in,
like thieves in the night,
stealing all the happy.
And I’ve also had the following lyrics stuck in my head since bedtime last night:
“I made my bed, I’ll lie in it. I made my bed, I’ll die in it.”
Miss World – Hole. Live Through This
It felt very profound last night, and I can’t figure out if that’s a bad thing. Like I was FEELING it. Hmm.
Oh and I’ve been nursing the dreaded Nyquil hangover all day. I feel like a zombie. Just another reason to avoid it, I suppose. Considering the amount of benzos and alcohol I consume on the regular, it’s sort of bizarre that something like Nyquil or Benadryl can kick my ass so hard.
I’m going to start taking Zyrtec tonight, because I can’t even with these allergies.
Really…I can’t even with this week. But that could be an entire blog post on its own.
you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.
– Warsan Shire
i wish you could see
just how happy you make me
i am so lucky
are so bitter
you must be kindest
– rupi kaur
These ugly things I tell myself
Are cruel whispers in the wind
Of a breeze that never stops blowing.
Oh how I yearn
For a windless day.
does not want me
it is not the end of the world.
if i do not want me.
the world is nothing but endings.