I'm always a little bit too close to something that feels a little bit too much like fear. I go to bed wishing for morning to come quickly, only to be wishing it was night again by mid morning.  I feel guily that the thought of everything I have to do in a day makes my chest feel tight and my throat restict. I feel guilty that I've always had a place to sleep and food to eat, and that I still can't be happy. I feel guilty that I've wasted my therapists time again by whining about my dad. I feel guilty that my mom feels like its her fault I turned out like this. I feel guilty that there are real people suffering from real illnesses and I sit around in a panic because I think every twinge is going to be the thing that finally kills me. I just wish my misery had a little less company. I wish I could be alone without myself for a while. 

I want to stop being afraid but I keep doing things with consequences that terrify me. I can't tell myself no, my hedonism has turned self destructive. My long walks are starting to seem like death marches, I worry I won't know when to quit, or worse, that I've already missed my second chance. I've really tried to pinpoint the exact moment I lost control but I can't because loss of control is not something that happens in one moment. It's like sand through an hourglass, a million little things that seem like no big deal at the time, it's taking that extra valium, it's skipping your last class, it's telling yourself you'll deal with it tomorrow when you know you won't, it's bringing adderall on vacation, it's letting them do whatever they want to you, it's a slow loss of the sense of danger that keeps you alive, it's the blurry line between self love and self hate, it's living every day like it might be your last because maybe you're hoping it will be. 

All this space makes me feel a little bit smothered, and when every other over used self reassurance fails to make my hands stop shaking, I tell myself that nothing matters and I say it like it's a good thing. I wonder if you could divide the world into the people who the meaninglessness comforts and the people who lie awake at night trying to find a loophole in their own insignifigance. Nothing makes me feel better than knowing huge mistakes aren't for someone like me to make, in 50 years no one will care if  I never amounted to anything. I hate to sound so fucking sad because I'm not, I'm just in the deep end of lonely. 

I'm going to spend my time writing shitty poetry in the green and yellow light of this slow closing honey trap, and people are going to read it and think someone like me could do better, but I never will and they'll stop expecting it. Whatever I say will be trite because anyone who is alone this much is running out of things to notice. I go for walks at night even though there's noone to make sure I come home. I'll keep taking whatever I find because I never knew when to stop. I'll be terrible at art and do it anyway because I want to. I'll stop telling people yes when I want to say no. I'll stop being afraid of things I know I can't run away from. I'll stop running away from things I don't want to think about. I don't care! I don't care! I don't care!