Hi! I haven’t been active much, so I thought I’d just put some things out there that have been on my mind ;
As far as things with my court case goes, we’re tying up ends and getting the mitigation packet in to the prosecutor. My future will be dependent on if this man will have a shred of sympathy for me, if he’s in a good mood, if he’s out for blood.
There is a very minuscule possibility that I may be able to avoid prison time, if and only if the stars align ever so perfectly in my favor (so please, cosmic vibrations, prayers, manifestations are so greatly appreciated).
Aside from the cruel uncertainty of time, my life has been absolute grief and chaos. My little sister who is 19 has just come back to stay with us after a 2 year heroin/meth bender. Conditions being that she continues to go to outpatient until we can get her a bed date somewhere. (5th times a charm!) She is an absolute hurricane and whereas before when I know she’s been back out I continuously stress about her death, having her home makes me equally as stressed. Always worried she’s lying or stealing again. I’ll be happy to see her off in treatment again and I hope this time she sticks to it.
In relation to treatment, most of the friends I had met in mine are struggling. Relapsing. My rehab romance you all warned me about didn’t work out (lol) but we remain close, though he is struggling to get back up after a relapse as well. I am so fucking stressed, but I’m almost to 8 months clean and sober. I have a birthday coming up which I dread, but I’m not too worried about using.
If you all are into podcasts, I’ve been listening a lot to The Sad Bastard. He is a bipolar person in recovery who talks about vulnerability, mental health, and his struggle with substance abuse. Highly recommended if you’re melancholy like me. Thanks y’all for reading this. Just venting a bit as I’ve been feeling hopelessly alone lately.
Here is a recent poem I’ve written :
My friends around me die and relapse
And I feel numb to the world
Cold to her touch
Majesty wears the crown but
Like barbed wire
And razor blades
So fragile our paper skin
Falls victim to things like cancer
And the chemical barrier we so often slip
While trying to find a foothold
Our shaky hands are weak and feeble
And sometimes an outstretched arm
Bows crooked at the elbow
The fruit ripens and rots
The leaves fall and wither
We inhale markers of time and forget
To blow the candles out
We etch numerals into stone
Until the sand runs out
And we flip the hourglass again
I want to lace my frigid fingers
In between the cracks and
Hold fast and steady and strong
Defying gravity for them
Until the concrete bones crumble
And we can build from dust again