Thursday

The Monkey On The Chip On My Shoulder (311 Words)



Living with this, living like this, isn't easy. 

You never really know how the day is going to go, sure sometimes you can open your eyes and feel the sun, and you just know today is going to be a good day.

But sometimes you open you eyes and feel only darkness, feel it weighing you down right to the depths of your very being. 

Those aren't good days.

Other days you get up feeling fine and things just go to shit.

"Better kill yourself," says the voice in your head.

These intrusions come like bolts out of the fucking blue.

"Why are you writing this shit? No one cares."

Delete.

Delete.

Delete.

"Fucking pussy, grow some balls."


Sure there are days you feel that impending doom and things pan out alright.

Maybe you hear a song you really like, or the way the sun comes through the trees makes you smile. Maybe you see a little girl dressed as a bee skipping on her way to school.

You've got to appreciate the little things, find the love that is out there. Block out the bad, stop reading the papers, watching the news, the soaps, reality tv, try and remove yourself from the never ending cycle of misery.

This is easier said than done, and it'll still be there, the voice in your head. Just waiting for things to slip enough to let him back in. Let him start chipping away at you again.

You'll never shut him up, never truly be free and to be honest it is fucking terrifying.

Once you accept that, you can start to get on with your life again. The voice won't be so loud anymore. It's still there, just not screaming in your ear.

That's what I'm trying to do these days.

Live.

This isn't a suicide note, this is a declaration of life.

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