I woke up this morning to a clogged toilet. No guesses as to how my day’s gonna go. Another morning where every muscle in both legs is locked up and useless. All to look forward to is a wheelchair, a shitty breakfast, then the 9am smoke break.
My whole life feels like a clogged toilet. I’m a tourist in this long term care facility; were old people go die when no one’s left to care about them. It’s a softer kind of prison. With pain meds and angry Haitian women who will wipe your ass because they’re paid to. I’m just passing through, too young to be give up on totally.
Funny thing is, this isn’t the first time that I almost died from alcohol and narcotics. It happened once before. And this last time I came really close to dying. So much so, I broke my body. Maybe beyond repair. And the uncertainty of all that leads constantly to these clogged toilet days. Where are the shit that I am full of, backs up and reality and emotions spill out everywhere.
And I’m reminded of how I almost killed myself, yet again. Of how close I came to death, And all I can seem to think, on these messy days is, if I had tried just a little bit harder, I’d have a lot less to worry about right now
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