It’s another miserable night. Sitting alone in the bathroom with a drink in hand, struggling to make the right choices.
I feel like shit. Do I deserve it? Is he wrong? Does he care?
Each drink tells me a different story. One more and I’m right. Another and I’m a piece of shit. Deserving only of death and pain.
Is either right? I’m pretty sure he’s wrong. I know I deserve better. I’m not perfect. I’m a mess. I’m a fuck up.
But no matter the number of drinks trying to convince me otherwise…I don’t deserve it.
I hate the bathroom. It’s where everything bad happens. I shouldn’t be here.
It’s now 1:19am. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I know tonight was miserable. It was unacceptable. It made me afraid.
I hate this.
I hate the vulnerability, I hate being here when I know I’ll regret it tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’ll wake up and hate myself. I’ll blame myself. Everything will be all my fault, just like I’ve been taught my entire life.
If I go to sleep now, my eyes will be swollen and red when I wake up. There’s no hiding the misery of these early mornings.
1:20am. Life and death always hanging in the balance.
Am I a piece of shit? Do I deserve better? I want to feel okay right now. I want to make good choices.
But I feel weak. I don’t want to care anymore. I’m too tired to care.
Blaming myself is easier. It’s easier to hate myself. To forgive myself. To not forgive myself.
1:23am. I have a choice to make. Actually, I have a few choices to make. I don’t want the world to stop, I just want the pain to stop.
I don’t feel very okay, but I’m trying really hard.
I have to wake up soon, but I wish I didn’t have to. I don’t see what the point is. I live my life for others. My life is purely to serve.
The pain seems to outweigh any benefit.
I’m not trying to be selfish. I’m in so much pain. I want it to stop. But I don’t deserve that.
1:28am. Less than 4 hours until I have to be awake. I don’t see the point in sleep. I don’t see the point in life.
Things have hurt before any they will hurt again.
But I will keep trying. I will keep pushing. I don’t give up.
The evil doesn’t win. The alcohol doesn’t win. The pain doesn’t win.
Not tonight. Not this morning.
1:30am. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to heal. I don’t know if I’ll be okay. I don’t want to wake up, but I have to.
My fight isn’t over. I feel too tired to keep going, but I’m not selfish. This pain is mine.
I won’t make it anyone else’s.
Just because other people make choices to hurt me doesn’t mean I need to do the same.
1:32am. I don’t want to admit defeat. I would sit awake on this damn bathroom floor all night. My will would allow it. That doesn’t mean it’s the right choice.
1:35 am. I hoped he would care. I hoped I would be important enough. I’m no ones responsibility but my own. But I don’t think that means I deserve to feel this way.
I am not always wrong. He is not always right. This is the grey area.
I don’t know if I’ll heal, but at least I’ll survive.
1:38am. The morning wins this round. Waking hours will greet me with puffy eyes and upset spouses. I will push through. The choice isn’t mine. Giving up isn’t a luxury I have. Part of me is grateful.
I don’t know how to commit to sleep. Maybe that’s too big. I can’t commit to sleep, but I also will not commit to death. Not tonight.
There’s too much left unsaid. I won’t put my own pain onto my children. They will see the best of me. Swollen, tired eyes and all.
4 hour until the demands of the day greet me. It all feels to big. I want to quit. I want to stop. I want to rest.
4 hours until I have to fake it.
I don’t know if I can.
But even if I can’t, I will. At least for tomorrow, at least for tonight. I am stronger than the pain.