Middle of the night. I sit on my chair with glass of whiskey in my hand, give it a swirl.
Time is such a weird concept.
I was waiting for this for years and yet I feel like those last two weeks will be longer than them.
I look back on my life, I see darkness, I see void that is reaching for me, it wants to hug me, comfort me in well-known sadness, feed me with pain of old days, lay my head on cashmere pillow made of self-hatred.
I feel like I need to give up, like I need to let myself rest on this bed made of thorns
For one more minute
Like alarm clock in the morning
I press “snooze” on my life once more
Even though I know I can’t.
Even though I know it will kill me.
Even though I know that I need to! If not for me then for him!
I finish my drink, Do I want to wake up? It feels so good to lay down, even thou it hurts.