maybe the medication isn’t working
I don’t think I know who this body belongs to. I sleep when I can, and that means 2 hours a day. Mostly I am lying awake half, suspended in my brain matter and the cotton of my bed sheets. The resulting weariness knots itself into a corner of my head and pulses with nervous energy, humming like a pebble in all my thoughts. I have forgotten what it is like to be hungry. Instead, food feels like a stranger and we make awkward conversations that no one remembers. I‘m just not interested, so I push around morsels of sustenance while my insides rumble with the thunder of a forgotten appetite.
But I am floating, far from the bitter blackness, my clothes drip sadness into the waters below. Is this what normal feels like? I have struggled with all this weight, but suddenly it seems like I don’t have to suffer at all. I never knew freedom came at such a price, never knew lightness could feel so wrong.
