I’m not getting better

I’m breaking, I know I am.

It’s not obvious, not even to me but I know.

My body is f*cked. Chronic pain eats away at me every day.

I can’t sleep. I spend hours trying to with 0 success. When I do, I only manage to get a few hours.

My minds gone, miles away and I can’t find it most of the time. I’m just a blue od routine.

I know the day because of work. Yet it’s rare that I know the actual date.

I don’t have anyone that loves me, have no one that I love.

Yet I’m haunted by the ghosts of my past, they show up in my daydreams.

My life is a map of survival. A person trying to crawl out of a hole that constantly gets deeper.

I’m not moving forward nor backwards yet I’m moving.

I bite. I get angry, stressed. I let guilt consume me and I allow myself to be used. Ignored. Forgotten.

A lesson taught from childhood, accepted in adulthood. Silence is safety. Silence is steady.

Yet I talk, all the time. Nothing important, nothing that matters but I talk. A shield of words to hide the real ones.

And the worst part is that this is normal. Surviving and not living is normal.

Not just because the of the 7 years I’ve been doing this, most likely longer.

But because the time and effort that’s been wasted in numerous attempts to get better.