A Prayer

There will be no rest here. Horror overwhelms like nerve gas. Agent blue. Chills crawl up my spine. I’m torn between some sick elation and the monster of every day discomfort. I’m lost. Lost in my head. Lost in my books. Lost in my own house. Fear lurks in every corner. And no, the natron didn’t help. Not one bit.
I’ve become blind to responsibility. I haven’t showered in days. My stomach is as empty as my bank account, which just so happens to be in the red. I have no desire for food. I need clarity and light. These things I simply cannot locate and if I did, would I know what I had? Searing questions. Is it worth it to go on? To seek out elusive dreams? Or am I chasing nightmares? Perhaps I’m in hell. That would explain so much of what’s gone wrong. What’s still going wrong. And thus an atheist cries out to god to save him.

–J

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Filed under bipolar, confusion, depression, fear, ptsd, writing

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