I live in a strange place. Not where I sleep, but in my head.
It is full of dark places, hidden crannies and shadow. Paranoia runs rampant. All is covered by pain, some emotional, most physical.
Lately a new medication has been added to the mix, to help the pain. It works, kind of. The pain is still there, I just don't care so much. As this has been going on, things have begun to change. But I cannot trust it.
The fact that I always look for the worst is coming to the fore. And finding the worst is not a problem.
The fog I live in now makes for quicker thinking, but also makes it more difficult to let go of a thought once it comes to the fore.
It is a wistful hate. more like sour grapes than anything else. It is different than my self-hatred, or my hatred of lobster or traffic. It is based on the fact I love her, and cannot be with her.
More insignificance in a life that is nothing but. I leave only pain behind me wherever I go, and leave no other mark than the words I leave here. But I will continue to live.
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