Scanning hands on rust-colored carpet find blister packs of sleeping pills emptied and strewn. One dose exceeded by five results in mild coma. Six holes in foiled plastic sheets foresee my own unpleasant future. Purging, the chalky water falling into the porcelain bowl recalls a Buddhist meditation where one visualizes breathing in the darkness and suffering of the world while breathing out a transformed clear shining white that embodies bliss and goodness. It never felt so sickening to be a spiritual vehicle of light.
A pounding head and a turning stomach send failing arms and tired legs reeling into the scattered sheets on a sinking mattress.
Upon waking, I realize what I had done and what I could have done. Had I not vomited the excess of medicine into the pipes of my home, I may still be sleeping. Had I been drinking, I might not have woken up. Its Christmas Eve. What a gift to the world that might have been.
I weigh the condition by which my head hangs so loosely: I cant hold it up without a great deal of force, and when I force it back into place it falls backward and I almost follow suit. This is why I look forward to the kneeling prayer during tonights Christmas service.
My brain is full of many chemical compounds that it is not used to dealing with on such a large scale. This is why Im weakened as the aching grows stronger: Too much energy is going into making me feel like shit. My stomach is doubled in discomfort and gives off the impression of hunger with the impending certainty of immediate eruptive sickness. And now, Even after having quit cigarettes 2 years ago, my breathing is heavy and weak. I imagine this is what it would feel like if I had kept on going.
All day I lie back in bed and relax with lightly humorous cartoons. A tiny regression gives the illusion of comfort by recalling elementary school sick days.
A pounding head and a turning stomach send failing arms and tired legs reeling into the scattered sheets on a sinking mattress.
Upon waking, I realize what I had done and what I could have done. Had I not vomited the excess of medicine into the pipes of my home, I may still be sleeping. Had I been drinking, I might not have woken up. Its Christmas Eve. What a gift to the world that might have been.
I weigh the condition by which my head hangs so loosely: I cant hold it up without a great deal of force, and when I force it back into place it falls backward and I almost follow suit. This is why I look forward to the kneeling prayer during tonights Christmas service.
My brain is full of many chemical compounds that it is not used to dealing with on such a large scale. This is why Im weakened as the aching grows stronger: Too much energy is going into making me feel like shit. My stomach is doubled in discomfort and gives off the impression of hunger with the impending certainty of immediate eruptive sickness. And now, Even after having quit cigarettes 2 years ago, my breathing is heavy and weak. I imagine this is what it would feel like if I had kept on going.
All day I lie back in bed and relax with lightly humorous cartoons. A tiny regression gives the illusion of comfort by recalling elementary school sick days.