I’m worried I won’t sleep tonight.
I’ve been taking melatonin for the past few days to give me sort of a kick-start to bed. It works, but I’m a little leery of getting addicted to a hormone.
There’s this pit in my stomach and where it comes from I know not where and where it goes after it’s gone I know not where. I only know that it’s times like these I wish my mom was here to bury me inside of her and let me feel nothing and let me know nothing.
I begin to realize that I cannot cut people off. I cannot sample once and then, quite the epicurean, move on. I look at all the people I have known in life and the few people I know currently and how in some small way I think I have attached myself to each of them. Not like a leech, but in a different way. I have this habit of getting deep inside of people. I crawl my way in and claw my way around their insides, poking this and that, just for fun. I try to find where the hurt is inside of them and then take one of my own pieces to give to them instead. Because I am not broken. I am happy and whole and blooming.
Until I’m not. Until I hurt, just as much as they do. Until my insides are coated black and fleshy and swollen and I need a healer before my own flame that lights me up on a day to day basis gets snuffed out.