I'm laying here listening to Gemini Syndrome and trying to use the music as an excuse to not get up.
I want to get up. I want to walk over to the refrigerator and get out the remaining bottle of beer. I want to walk outside and smoke every one of the two packs of cigarettes I have left. I want to drive to the store and buy some cheap whiskey, come home, and drink the entire bottle in one sitting.
I want to unfold the knife lying on my chest, one beautiful blade at a time, until I stop on the serrated one I've come to trust the most. I want to feel that intimate violence as the blade slides through my skin, sundering flesh and evaporating all the agony inside while the blood wells up to fill the wound.
I want to skip work for the rest of the year, replacing productivity and focus with the haze and blurred uncertainty of total surrender to the disease.
And soon I will want to die.
I can't decide if I want anyone to stop me.
Submitted December 16, 2014 at 11:28AM by BipolarHacker http://ift.tt/1BRY7tG BipolarReddit
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