If I was to use one word to explain this feeling it would be grief. Although inevitable, this moment always comes as a shock to the system. Like a high nothing really matters, except it’s different in the sense that rather than floating on air you are lying in the gutter. Your muscles are tired and sore, you head and limbs are heavy. There’s no way to console you, it is all encompassing holding you down with cold hands. Everyone celebrates the highs, I do too. But I would sacrifice them all to never feel this way again. I’m pale. I want to speak about it but I don’t know how to explain it. Or worse I do and they don’t understand. Days like these remind me why I will always be a risk left alone. I feel a weight on my chest, a constant lump in my throat. Feeling everything with so much intensity can be a wonderful thing, just not when you crash.
Published by Abominable Bell Blog
I am at the tail-end of my thirties, starting afresh as a singleton, moving into my own place by myself for the first time in my life, all while navigating life after lockdowns and living with Borderline Personality Disorder. This blog will be my journal. Some little bits about me to get you started. I love Godzilla, pizza, animals (except frogs), reading and vodka. View all posts by Abominable Bell Blog