The past few nights have been really difficult. M has been here, prominently occupying my daily life. He alerted me of his presence with a, “Hello, Sibyl. Good morning, Bitch.”
I can feel him injecting black dye into my organs. I can see it flowing through my veins. They’re darker. I am clouded with it. He shuffles through obscene pictures of my girlfriend fucking other people, of my cousin mounting me… he wants me to know how absolutely worthless I am to anybody’s health.
I feel quiet and helpless. Two mornings ago I found myself hidden once again beneath my covers, crying into my mattress. I feel that at any point in time, someone is going to break into the house and kill me.
Exhaustion has befriended me. I hope it’s as simple as a med adjustment. As the days progress, my itch for opiates intensifies; the release of warmth and comfort. I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay.