emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

I was asked today, how I make myself seem so calm

And I don’t have an answe, or didn’t.

It’s strange being so full of rage, that it’s part of me in such a way, that it just doesn’t show anymore

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

I can no longer abide by the shit you do

Nor will I stand by and watch you destroy your life

Family or not

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

Nothing feels real

Or right

Or stable

Or sane

Except you

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

I know why I was in love with you and honestly it’ll never change.

But I just wish for your happiness now, for your own sake.

Now. Now I can say I’m happy with where I’m going.

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

It’s gotten worse recently

The urge to smash a sheet of pills and down a bottle of jack

The voices in my head have graduated from subtle whispers to the mental equivalent of being shoved in a school hallway and while they laugh and scream at me telling me I’m useless, a waste of space, no one loves me, just fucking die.

It’s gotten worse, and I haven’t told anyone how close I am to actually finally listening to them.

Is that bad? Maybe.

But I can’t sit in silence anymore, the start of my mornings truly are the worst. I need my music, I need to drown out the voices that scream so loud half the time it sounds like static from a tv

It makes me sick, makes me weak at the knees, I can’t take this anymore, because why should I.

Isn’t it okay for me to go, why can’t I. Sometimes I think they’re right, the stupid voices, in telling me that I am a waste of space.

My thoughts jump from violence to peace so fast I never know if I’m about to explode on someone or smile and and ask how their day was

I never know if I’m about to snap and tell someone I hate them or smile and ask if they want to get lunch

It all happens in the space of a second, that terrible set of thoughts.

Yet for all the times one voice has said one thing and another said something else, they all stop arguing when it comes to the question of if it’s okay to die

They all tell me yes, it’s okay to leave.

It’s kinda hard to fight when even the voices who wish for your best path in life tell you that killing yourself is a-fucking-okay.

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

Hand me a bottle of Vodka and a sheet of pills. Tell me it’s over and my time is done. I’ll smash it down and go with a smile. Will you be proud of me then

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

So often I want to message you and ask how you’ve been, see what’ve you been you up to, ask if you want to get lunch.

But it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, heard your voice, felt your embrace, that I don’t know how to.

I know it’s simple to do, simple words, a few easy sentences to write. So why can’t I?

Am I scared of your response, worried that it’ll just be another passing ideal in my head

Or do I believe you’re finally truly better off without me

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

A few years ago I discovered that I could down a sheet of Oxy and wake up the next day without any drama.

Today I remembered the exact reason why I wanted to attempt it, and why I was disappointed I woke up.

Now I want to try again, with more and a bottle of Jack for good measure.

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

Once in my life, I could have loved you, and it hurts to know you could have loved me too. But we made it clear, it would never have worked out, and what we had was just as what we started, best friends.

So why the fuck is it that when I see you, when I hear your voice, when I’m in your vicinity, why does my heart skip a beat and my stomach drop?

Why is it every mental defence rears its head as if preparing for a total breakdown, a loss of breath, the absolute destruction of every wall I put up to forget the fact that if you asked me to run away, I would of said When.

It’s been months hasn’t it? I still get the odd message “Hey I miss you, we should get lunch” and that’s all.

Why? Are you trying to keep me attached? Hanging on for my next fix of the sound of your voice and softness of your touch. You can’t keep doing this to me. But I’m not strong enough to look you in the eye and tell you to leave.

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

The memories I’d swear I’d forgotten, of the sound of your voice, the colour of your eyes, the innocent slow walk and the laugh that shook the heavens

For some reason, years after I began my repression and destruction of those sensations you made- no, make -me feel, flooded my mind today, but it didn’t hurt this time, it didn’t make my heart ache for you again

The memories were fond and made me smile just enough to get me through the day.

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

I want to bloody my fucking knuckles on your stupid fucking face.

Fuck you, I can’t stand the way you make me feel anymore.

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU BECAUSE I FUCKING MISS YOU AND I NEVER CROSS YOUR MIND

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

Please get out of my head, I cannot take much more of this hell

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

I heard from you for the first time in months and it tore apart the walls I so carefully put in place against such an event.

It forced me to realise that I never actually dealt with the fact of you being gone, I just repressed it the best I could in hopes that the memories would fade from my mind just like everything else.

But the worst part is, now I cannot stop myself from looking back over all my social media as if in reflex, hoping, PRAYING, for just another moment of your time, when the reality of it all is, it’s probably never going to happen.

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

It's just a dream I tell myself once I finally open my eyes

It's just another dream on another cold lonely night that most definitely won't follow through, because I'll remember it and force it to pass unanswered and unfollowed.

I hate that after so long I still so vividly remember the sound of your voice or the touch of your skin and the feeling of your hair

I hate that I can close my eyes and think of your smile, still stuck so fresh in my mind.

It's just a dream I tell myself, for the second time in a month, as I close my eyes and drift into sleep, to confront you once again

It's just a fucking dream I tell myself as I scream out loud I MISS YOU PLEASE DONT GO I NEED YOU

And in the smallest and softest of whispers I hear in return, "It's good to see you again, you know where I'll be when you need me, when the time is right"

Well I fucking need you now because apparently I can't get a hold of myself when you stroll so casually further in that hellish nightmare.

It's just a dream.

And even though you hate me and want no part of me in your life.

I'll be fucking damned if this one comes to pass.

You will fucking live, even if it costs me dearly.

You don't get to die and leave that easily, not now, not ever.

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

I blocked you

Of course I blocked you

I realised I still had so much I had to say to you, so many things I wish I'd gotten off my chest, some were good, but if I'm being honest, most of them were hardly pleasant emotions.

You left, you got up, and went out the door, you made your choice.

And yet, you still show up, a notification here and there, a memory in my Facebook, a sign saying you still exist out there, amongst the broken memories and shattered dreams

You still haunt my thoughts when I wander the world awake, and my dreams? I can never tell if it's a nightmare or the greatest time of my life.

So, I'm blocking you, erasing you, deleting the things that remind me of you, as I have done with countless memories and possessions.

Good bye, Good Night, Good Luck.

[emptythoughtsanddrunkenwish-blog]

Sleep it off

Sleep it off because you've drank it off, fucked it off, fought it off, you've let it bleed and you've screamed until your lungs gave out and your throat burnt up.

I've seen people have a bad minute, a bad hour, day, week to a month or a year

I've seen what happens when people crash at their lowest with tears streaming down their face, the scent of fuck knows what and god knows who laced across their skin, in the presence of their soul.

I've seen people with bloody cuts and black and blue bruises across their wrists, their arms, their legs and all of the inches of skin that make up their body.

People who sleep for hours more then I could ever hope for, yet still walking around with bags under their eyes from those same nights, plagued by nightmares and demons they refuse to talk about.

When the light in someones eyes dies and they cease to be alive just surviving, their world has collapsed and now they feel alone.

I've seen people at their lows.

But it's not a bad life, just a bad chapter.

So sleep it off. Sleep because you've run yourself down coping with it in what ever way you feel necessary.

Then stand up. Dust yourself off, straighten your back, take a bow and thank the hurt for the lessons and the help, and walk on

It's a bad chapter not a bad life