teapot

i hate mornings.

i can't remember a time i felt good waking up. there was always something hurting on my body. it doesn't matter whether i had a full night's rest or barely slept at all, my first feeling of the day is never good.

getting out of bed marks the beginning of my existential dread. the whole concept of living feels like such an insurmountable challenge that it crushes my soul. i can barely keep myself together, so i sure as hell will find it difficult to bring myself to live up to certain aspirations. most of my wins have mostly been a matter of luckily stumbling my way into positive outcomes. i can't be lucky my entire life. that clearly is the case cause i carry the burden of many failures.

i guess that's why i have a shit ton of aches all over my body. all the emotional stress are manifesting themselves as physical pain. that's why inebriation is such an attractive state for me. it dulls both the good and bad elements of my mind. if being less sharp means being in less pain, then it's a no brainer. sobriety opens up the floodgates for all of my troubles. it doesn't help that i'm abhorrently forgetful cause the i'm constantly confused with being unable to connect actual memories with the trauma. it's all there. bothering me. you can't let go of those which you cannot get a hold of.

it's been interfering with my high order thinking and it renders me utterly useless. writing is my only way to stay grounded as everything else crumbles around me. i'll just have to apologize to those that depend on me whom i will inevitably fail.

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