Chronicles Of Chronic

A broken but still functional sink

I used to write here a lot but it feels like pain stole that away from me. I no longer want to be alone with my personal thoughts I’d rather just engage in trivial banter and wait for the end of another day. I look forward to almost nothing else besides sleep because that’s the only sort of break I get, but that has become elusive too. So I’ve become that person who watches a show on their phone at 2 am but I can’t remember anything from it because the whole time I was fighting with the voices in my head.

This year makes it 8, 8 years that I’ve had this relationship with pain. They call it CHRONIC. I wake up with it, I spent the day with it as ever present company and when I go to bed it’s still there. You see my pain is rather clingy, it hugs my spine with a fire I couldn’t put in words and it spreads out throughout my back before running down my legs to the balls of my feet and it never let’s go. That embrace chips away at my sanity on a daily but I smile through it because what can you do? Nicely ask it to stop, scream for it to go away, bargain with it?

I think I’ve become lost to myself. Every book I read reveals within an epiphany and I assume a new identity and purpose but the pain crushes that and I sink again into depression before discovering yet another book and the cycle continues. I’ve become this hole of anger, sadness and despair yet it never ends. It oftens like I’ve adjusted but the knife stabbing me is twisted again and again as if only to remind me how I hold no power here. How I’m just a lamb being driven to a self inflicted slaughter.

What feels like a long time ago now, I used to think I knew what it meant to hurt. I thought I had beared things too unbearable to carry on until a new meaning of suffering was revealed to me. Life said, “We haven’t even started yet!” But it’s all fucked up in the end, life twists everyone’s existence in some regard and I’m yet to find those who are immune.

It’s March, but it feels like it’s been a long year. Maybe I should stop supporting Arsenal. Maybe I should stop falling in love. Maybe just maybe pain is the price of life. As if we don’t go through enough by having to work everyday just earn our keep. CHRONIC, life was so much better when this only brought to mind Dr Dre and maryjane. I don’t even know if I’m making sense. I guess the hazards are on tonight as I make a date with my imagination to try and escape.

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