And so I go through life armed with a plethora of pills that are supposed to be fighting my demons.
Problem here though is when I’ve pissed them outta my system and I’m left with dreaded emotions of my motionless spirit.
I laugh and joke and sing and smile, because the happy pill commands such behaviour. So as it breaks down and seeps its way into my system, it starts painting the mask I can present to the world.
But when the world stops spinning and the effect wears off, the tears well up in my ducts and a grim blanket envelops me.
Guilt. Tormented by what ifs.
Regret. Tormented by could bes.
Cos nothing fucks the mind quite like someone mentioning your name as they draw their last breath…
So again I will pop one or three and get a face lift.
Not cos I can’t face my troubles but because I won’t get an answer. Sitting on a couch while telling him about my childhood won’t give me the answer.
“why MY name?”
Was it because of the fight we had cos you wouldn’t eat? Was it because of the time we spent in silence, just being?
No amount of talking will get me that answer, so I’ll pop these pills and present a face I can face the world with.
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