Bare bones. A path is found in the night.

No sleep, no rest for me, no vice, no virtue.
I feel these shadows creeping back into my mind that I haven’t felt for a long time. Maybe I’ve just been ignoring them or pushing them away and now my walls have cracks.
I’m tired.
I want to sleep.
Often, I’m distraught, often and then constantly. I forgot how it feels to be a bundle of raw nerves.
I’ve been numb.

I’ve been having these self-destructive thoughts.

I want to be strong. I want to hold these certain truths in my heart without the bitter taste at the back of my tongue. I want to be a healthy and complete person. I’m standing across a desolate, infinite stretch of space and air and light, open mouthed and howling, trying to reach peace or something bigger than myself.
The hunger burning in my stomach takes my breath away. There is power in it.
I remember this feeling, of sinking into myself, though I’ve been on the opposite side of the looking glass for years. I’ve existed in this fog, this lack of control, this self loathing.
And this new feeling is old self loathing in a new disguise, I know, but I’m drawn to the dance. I want the power.
I deserve power over myself.

I can’t sleep and the air and the empty space between my bones are vibrating in my chest. I can bite down on this tangible fire. I can feel the shadows brewing. I think I’ve looked away and lost myself and suddenly I’m staring in the face of things I thought I’d left behind in hospital wards full of the starving and the damaged and the self-destroyed,
Mostly I am floating and I eat a little less each day, it’s an accident.

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