Words don't mean much anymore. Yet it kills me to read over things I wrote in the past, because I can still feel it, taste it, experience every word written there. But things are so different now. I'm supposed to be normal &happy &never worry about anything.
I had hit more than just a bottom. I was going to kill myself because it wasn't happening fast enough, but somehow, my work, parents, the police, &my PO were there to stop me on the day it was going to happen.
Needless to say, I ended up in a shelter for a couple of days, until I was sent to a rehab for 2 months.
It's hard being clean after 2 years of ALWAYS having something at least for the better part of each day. It's hard as fuck being consciously aware of everything going on around me at all times, of having the deal with real feelings.
But most of all, it's hard being clean at a time like this. I wish I could have had this happen to me before I lost everything. Mostly I'm just talking about a boyfriend. Mostly I'm just lonely as fuck.
I hope you drown.