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Cold turkey never tasted sweet. If you see me smile then I am probably lying to you. 

I am so used to that mask it looks natural. I hide because I don't trust you. You are there for me but I think it's because of the performance. The shallows are where we live, everything is surface and we never go deeper. I cough and spew bile. 

The phlegm in my throat is bitter and will not let go. I choke but I can still breath, though it's a wheezing breath it gives me oxygen. I hate the smell of everything. I like the cold air as it soothes my burnt and scared lungs. I am cold and bitter and full of hate, though it's getting better as I can now articulate, if only to myself. 

I extend my arm and feel the muscles stretch and strain, no one is there to take my hand. I am running away but not physically. My mind is closing doors and my fear is locking those doors. I feel utterly benign. I have no appetite again. I want to run and jump and fly if only for a few seconds before reality grounds me. 

I would like to die and that thought is killing me. When it is all over I won't make another choice. It hurts to be so silent. The words build up in my body. My right leg is full of doubt, my left leg still thinks of love, my groin believes in a family. My torso wants to find home, my shoulder dreams of the countryside and my left arm pity's the less fortunate. My elbow believes in magic and my toes think of the future. 

My head wants to destroy it all because I have been tricked. The whole world and life, the past, the present and the future is confusing and abstract and arbitrary. It's everything and it is absurd. Even maths is absurd and logical, beauty and chaos. I keep letting go, I stumble drunk but if I fall from this lofty height, make no mistake! I meant it.

I don't know how to save you. When I say you I mean me. I don't know how to save you is a record I play on repeat. 

People don't hear me whisper. I'm in pain, it comes ever time I begin to sober up. Maybe I have held on long enough. I fantasise about my body floating down, into a dark and deep sea. I watch from third person as I can't put myself right there. It is only a fantasy and not a dream or a hope. I killed myself a long time ago because I couldn't take the pain. What is left is the achievement of my mind and nervous system, but my soul, I am not sure it could have survived through all of that. 

To be juxtaposed is like day dreaming. The sun rises and as my eyes open the darkness seeps in. Who am I, where have I been? Will I be allowed to stay? Or will this be the time he finally kills me. 

The parts of myself struggle to all float together and the stress hurts my head. I know I should rest and not pressure myself or fight it. 

It should be allowed to flow through me, this pain and hate and love and fear and hope.  the words on this one, it's ok, you're ok. If quitting smoking is this hard, try not to do it often.
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