Therapy

I wish beautiful words would flow from my fingers, but I fear the beauty has left me. You see there’s a deep darkness in me that I can’t figure out. It haunts me every morning, and I can’t seem to get rid of it. I can only bury it with things that tire me. People tire me. Writing tires me. Money tires me. I exhaust myself, and my mind goes numb. Sometimes I think I wasn’t made for this world.

I am frail and I am strong. I am smart and I am dumb. I am amazing and I am incompetent. I walk this line of manic and depressed. Sorry, but you are my therapist today. You can call it quits now and we’ll talk next time. Goodbye. Goodbye.

Let’s talk about pretty things. Let me paint you a pretty picture from my memory. I walk down the strip of Las Vegas, high out of my mind. The neon lights and the faces pass and I can’t remember much of it but I know I’m happy, anxious, and scared out of my mind. I see the homeless and I can see myself one day in their place, except I can’t sing or dance, so I’ll be that one who just lies there. Yes, I know I have it good. Sorry, I lied. That wasn’t pretty at all.

Give me another chance. It’s my first time seeing snow fall. I am walking in the mountains in Colorado with my two best friends. I don’t know if it’s the Rocky Mountains, but for the sake of saying I’ve been in the Rockies, it was the goddamn Rockies. I was told it’d be an easy hike. I am dressed for a SoCal afternoon, but it’s 20 degrees and it’s hard to breath. We trek into isolation. I say that for dramatic reasons. There were people running into the mountains during the snowstorm –it was a goddamn snowstorm –but they’ll tell you it was a ‘slurry’. “Nice slurry, huh,” this old, old lady passes us, smirking. Fuck you I thought I was going to die because we wander off the trail.

Maybe that wasn’t pretty, but it’s pretty funny now. You see I’m trying to dig out the happy memories, but I’m realizing that I don’t have any memories that are completely happy. Maybe that’s just the truth of it.

I acid tripped because I worked an office job and man it grinds you down, spits you out, and tells you this is life and this is being an adult. I turned 24, and I thought this is it! This is your life until you fucking die. The walls were maggots. I watched my girlfriend’s face melt and I’m curling into a ball but I see my demons when my eyes close. Acid is amazing and acid fucked me up. I woke up in the park and the wildflowers were never more beautiful. It was like an impressionist painting. Those impressionist must have always tripped on acid.

My hour is up. Thanks for reading.

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alanwrites

I'm writing a novel, but this is for my other projects. Thanks for reading!