Here’s to promises expected to be broken, to the wrong kinds of overdose and all the funny thoughts that sit on your chest at two in the morning that make you wonder if you will see seven in the morning, to the same echoing laughter that makes you not want to. To the frightening nausea of uncertainty, the voices that tell you to jump and the slippers you leave behind in your haste. To the pair of glasses you will never see again, the elation of possibility that gets torn down by the howling of insecurity. To benzos, to charcoal, to stomachs being pumped and cuts length ways because you’re serious this time.
I did not miss you, darkness, but you are an old friend.
Hello.
x
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