Into the Looking Glass

The days seem to blur into one another, time is of the essence yet it means nothing.  Night is day and day is night.  The only thing that signals a difference is the moment I change into my work clothes.  Then I know it is time for hell.  I run around like a chicken with its head cut off for no reason, no thank you, no acknowledgment, no high-five like there always has been.  My nights are spent laying awake tossing and turning, waiting for something to change, anything to change.  For the love of god, let something change.  I have used an entire months worth of ativan in two weeks and am abusing my topomax to the point where my hands begin to curl into themselves.  The bottle and nifty little information packet that comes with it says to be careful because it could cause seizures especially when mixed with alcohol...but don't most medicines say do not mix with alcohol?  I pay no attention to that particular part because it could be a number of things, it could be low electrolytes, it could be my kidneys it could be the fact that I am sleeping a minimum of three hours each night, consuming copious amounts of caffeine working my ass off, eating little and drinking as much as my body can handle.  Sometimes I am a little scared, the slow and erratic beating of my heart but it's okay I tell myself.  This is a good place to die if that were to happen.  Wait, you won't die, you are fat.  Just wait it out, my dear, just wait it out.  Just 10 more pounds and then you might have a reason to be concerned.  Just a little more liquor, a little more pot and a few more pills and a few more pounds lost and you will be okay.  

The razor calls my name some nights and some days.  So does the cocaine.  I cannot afford the cocaine right now which is what's stopping me.  Lord knows all I have to do is turn the porch light off and the crack dealers will show up soon enough because the steps are dark enough to sell and not be seen.  The cuts will be easy to hide, no one around who knows and I could care fucking less what my mother thinks because according to her she has done her part and I'm an adult and she's no longer obligated to help me in any way shape or form.  Besides, she still can't quite understand how such a vile being came from her body.