2/8

on the day i thought ray might kill me i worked full time and i worked full time the next day too and the next and the next and the next

that's it's own trauma

trauma is that tiny ice cube sitting between my heart and reality telling me i will hurt sky someday and also not care, the distance that sits between that warm alive good person and the frozen density of myself 

trauma is loving coffee, having it as a self-drawn thread through years of my own trials and experiences but ray gives me IBS so now i can't drink coffee any more

it's just everything all the time and i'm so tired but i can't do anything, like what am i supposed to do quit my job and lose my house and collapse in order to spend the weeks to put my brain right after someone else fucks it up for the millionth time

i think a lot about getting myself pink slipped but there's no point to even that brief reprieve since i'll just exit to increased medical debt, lost income, and lost time at work

i could let the thousand barking dogs of your ego drag you across the too-white sun
but where then would i go
in whose bed would i purl my rages and string them out across the brittle branch of someone else's thin-pressed lips

lol seeing people i love in person really fucked me up i guess

i don't want to leave the house ever again