It's starting to feel like you've hogged all the sheets away, but I'm sleeping by myself. // And no, rewind // I wish I could say I was sleeping. I'm only running through my mind, spinning restlessly trying not to fall down. Yet maybe, falling down would help, somehow. If anything, then I'd be forced to find my feet, forced to get up, open the window, and see if there's something more to August. The way you left me sitting - looking at my toes, afraid to raise my gaze - it hindered the upward look. I've since struggled to find an excuse to get a grip, to be strong enough to get past this last half, and exercise the willpower I've for so long claimed to have. If I had completely fallen down, or if you'd find a way to stab me further, then it'd be down forever, or up again to see the light. Two choices can often be better than several ideas, and crude obstinacy is known to have saved lives. I'm thinking I could get there if the bottom opened up. Sinking lower could just be the push I need.
If I were to call you up again,
and tell you what's been going on,
you'd hear my words,
and I know exactly what you'd say.
Bend or break? It's getting hard to tell the difference. All I know is I won't stay, and there will be no need for blankets anymore. I'll be left out in the cold again. How fucked up is that it's all I've ever wanted? In the meantime, I've realized that I've lost more than I ever thought I'd bargain for. But we both always knew that I'm a sucker for bets, even though the stakes are never clear, even if there was no need to jump the cliff. Now I'm stuck here, in the middle, wondering if the answer lies under my shoes. I keep thinking I'd get better if the bottom opened up. Sinking lower could just be the push I need.
If I were to call you up again,
and tell you what's been going on,
you'd hear my words,
and I know exactly what you'd say.
"That's enough self-loathing for one day, Sam".
Enough.
That's enough.
Enough.
That's enough for one day.
Enough.
You're better than this.
Enough.
That's enough.
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