I can’t keep doing this. Mouth filled with grit, and powder, and some undefinable taste that feels like death. Treading water, all this time, expecting to drown, without it happening, only waking up with chlorine blinding me, filling my ears and nose and mouth, and making me numb.
So, today, is day 1.
I don’t know if I can do this, but I can’t– keep living like this.
I wrote this shortly before I met the man that would save my life. Funny thing, is this was not day one. The next day, became day one at 10.37am.
There's a big gap here between the last previous entry and this one. That was a time period when things were very out of control, and I spent some time in prison, which made it sort of difficult to keep track of my thoughts. I spent most of that time being as loaded as possible.