Late Night Diary Entries

Tell me this is going to stop. The voices. The shaking of my body. The tears I can’t seem to fight back anymore. I’m not ashamed. I know what it is. I’m self-destructing. Before everyone’s eyes, I’m falling into my old habits again. Only this time I don’t care who witnesses in my death. A dark room. A bed that is never made. A decaying body covered by sheets. Don’t tell me its okay when I can’t sleep or eat and I’m barely managing to breathe. When just waking up is something I struggle to do. Something I wish I didn’t have to do. “If I let you down, will you self-destruct?” Could you feel my pain when I speak? What about when I look into your eyes? Do you see the damage that’s been done? The blood I’ve lost. The scars I must carry. Can you see the tears I’ve cried? Can you tell how empty I am? How far I’ve let myself slip. How little I have left? Maybe love was meant to save us from ourselves.