Drunk. All the thoughts are muffled, numbed. All the speed in them slowed to a crawl. A heated discussion in the other room, while I sup vodka and listen to all together now by the farm on spotify. I couldn’t care Less. Still the thought of death lingers, it’s dark grip holding on to my senses. I’m safe. I watch the world in slow motion, music the only thing that can soothe my troubled mind. I will hold on to the music. Hold onto the octaves that keep me sane. The melody is muffled by is speaking to my soul.
Drunk
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
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