It’s the nights where I don’t sleep.
Not out of insomnia
(though sometimes it’s that too)
but because I don’t want to be
alone in my thoughts,
so I distract myself,
endlessly scrolling through feeds
endlessly playing the same songs over and over and over
in the hope that this time they’ll help
staring blankly at my laptop screen,
my eyes dull and aching.
It’s the aching of my chest
that starts off small
and grows until the whole of me
until there’s nothing left of me
but the ache.
Not a physical pain,
though sometimes I think I’d prefer that,
it’d be easier if it were physical wouldn’t it?
It’s the emptiness.
Emptiness of my head as I struggle to think,
emptiness of my heart because I’ve
been nothing but numb since this came creeping back,
emptiness of your stomach
because I haven’t eaten in three days
and I’m hoping this method might be clean
even if it isn’t quick.
(I do eat eventually,
hating myself for my weakness
and for filling myself with comfort.)
It’s hoping this is just a bad day
or a bad week,
that I’m just not eating enough
or drinking enough
or not getting enough sleep
– or too much –
anything other than calling it what it is
because I really don’t think
I will survive
another bout of this.