Slås till spillror
Själ som krossat glas

Smärtan, och du har bedövningspilen
i din famn

Smek mej lugn
Håll mej varm

Snart är vintern även utomhus

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Sårbarheten
när jag lägger mina handflator upp mot skyn

och undrar vart mina änglar tog vägen

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Slicka mina öppna sår,
så som du gör mellan mina ben

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Jag är vacker
men min spegelbild är hemsk

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Tortyroffer.
Offra en get till din Gud,

eller låt änglarna gråta

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It’s not me who controls my wishes or thoughts
it’s my demons

I haven’t been in class for a week or so… I just can’t. But I don’t know why. Anxiety. Carelessness? I don’t know… all I know is the carrier of sorrow I am. Confused. Unfocused. Shattered.
Nightmare awoke me to yet another unpleasant morning where school wasn’t even an option in my head, after several unanswered alarmclock signals. Eventhough I told them ”Yes, I WILL be in class tomorrow. I will.”

Why do I do this?  The teachers just wants to help me, not humiliate me this time! I can’t for the life of me understand my own actions.
Everything is just a big escape and I’ve lost control. Routines aren’t even on my mindmap. There’s no X by the buried treasure.
The grief and sorrow in me is something I don’t have the energy to deal with cause I don’t know how. With a knife again? With even more alcohol?
All I know is that I do not function. All I have as something to try to cling on and try to hold on to each day is my diet. That I know what I will eat. That’s about how much control I have over my life now. There is no more strength in me to fight these demons anymore. I’ve let them control me too much in a row this time.
Naturally. I’m sinking. And it doesn’t matter how much you like me as a person….