i’m getting better because it is an option. I’ve felt so many variations of different things, through it i have managed to understand what can happen next. i can only assume that there must be an equal spectrum of goodness to parallel the bad. and my drive is more based on self respect than the fucked up impulse roulette that i used to subside to. i know that time is relative. i adore the time that made me alone because i made a space for myself. the time on my own began to feel almost the same as the time spent with others. i devalued my own company. i valued the company of others. i valued my own company. i devalued the company of others. i think i feel the need to experience extremes before i can determine a balance. maybe now i am smart enough to form a natural discernment.
i had this idea: i have to make something for myself. i kind of did. and my options change. i have not relapsed for a while. when you are alone and have no sense of object permanence, you come to rely on what you know to be true. what is true in all cases, whether you feel it of not?
i love myself, even if i cannot sometimes feel it
i respect myself, even if i cannot sometimes feel it
i deserve better, even if i do not sometimes believe so
i am moving and changing. this will not stay the same
yes i am creating fast
i know a lot about myself. i know that my mind is either or, black or white, high or low, and i need to build a foundation strong enough to keep some part of me grounded during the worst of it so that i do not go too far. i know that this is why i loved habit. a bad harm habit. a bad eating habit. a bad sex habit. i know i love repetition because it is mantra and many other things hurt much more than a premeditated chant that will occupy my body for a while. trauma is one of the strangest things; an experience that tries to destroy everything that comes after it. it is very hard stopping this form becoming inevitability.
i know now that i have options. i am really good at learning. i am the strongest i have ever been which is exciting. on monday i didn’t relapse even though i really thought i had to. i know that i have options. i know that i have been through a lot and i stay tough and remember what is true.
it is somehow my satisfaction
that i sip, throat hungover
and i can’t hold anything firmly enough.
and the tiny hands inside
me pass the news along
they handle this gently
im kind of scared of the silver
that is your outline
i remind myself that it is just tiny
hairs. they are soft, don’t be scared
to my satisfaction
it is rubber that my mind is
made of, if a feeling could be
my salvation, this is
stretching the floor i could hop
down. since when was my stance