I wipe another tear from my cheek, the skin sore from the tissue grazing my skin.
I feel so tired now.
I have cried so many tears, each one full of pain and heavy with hope. If crying could take the pain
away I would have been free years ago. I feel like a prisoner, of my own past, I cannot escape it; I am
serving a life sentence to all the memories, bad decisions and poor judgement. I can’t even close my
eyes without my conscience telling me what a fuck up I am and how shameful my existence is. I have
a constant battle of wills with my personality. It’s as though I have two lodgers squatting in my head
constantly arguing and fighting over my mind like a two player computer game. One’s a typical
pieces, a dreamer who helps me look past everything and see the positives, the light at the end of
the tunnel. The other, well the other I am not sure of the star sign but they’re just a sadistic bastard
that likes to torture me. Everywhere I go, these fuckers are always with me, confusing me and
making me a complete mess.
I overindulge in the redundancy of my life. Well, I feel redundant. Day after day, month after month,
year after year, waiting for something to happen that actually means something; something good.
When good is happening I never spot it and it passes like a flock of seagulls heading for the seafront.
They are there long enough but you don’t notice them until it’s too late and you only realise once it’s
over and you find shit in your hair. I know it’s grim but my life has been just that grim, I have had so
much shit in my hair.
So I just lie back and feel the tears stream some more, still tired, cheeks burning. If it isn’t bad
enough already i continue listening to the ruthless bastard in my head, who from now on I will call
Tina, hurling abuse. As for Jane, that’s the pieces, she has fucked off somewhere to make a daisy
chain or something. I seem to have it bulldozed into my mind that there is no future for me, no
happy future anyway. So many bad decisions, so much hurt and pain, you would think it can only get
better. Well, that is what Jane tells me but Tina’s voice is always loader when things fuck up a little
and she is just laughing at me forever believing it could be better.
So I take a tablet knowing it will drown them both out eventually. I wish these little white pills were
not so temporary. I wish they could strangle both those bitches so the only voice I could hear was my
own and I never had to go through this night again. Now I can’t get comfortable, I have 5 pillows and
a double duvet on a single bed, you would think it would be impossible not to get comfortable. The
light from the sky box is too bright and is distracting me; I feel like screaming “Can’t you see I am
trying to sleep?”
I stare into the darkness just waiting for it to be quiet thinking about the moment I wake up and not
remembering when I fell asleep. It’s not far away now, I can feel the drowsiness wrapping itself
around my mind and stroking my eye lids. This wouldn’t be happening if I wasn’t in this sorry excuse
for a room, small and pointless, crammed with 27 years of stuff. I turn, telling myself it is the last
time I will do it, so I better find a comfortable position this time. Be strict with yourself, that’s what I
tell myself, maybe if.....
