My hair is long, and itchy, yet I don’t know how to get a haircut as the fear of the cutting room mirror haunts me.
I spend a lot of my time thinking about dying, because that is all I want.
Not to die necessarily, but to sleep. To set the worry and the anxiety aside. I wish there was a pill for this.
Alcohol gives me a temporary respite from the horrors of my mind, I have to take Ambien to sleep.
I just took one because I am up and it is three thirty in the morning. I want to be asleep.
Hope: the lost frontier
I have lost the last thing that I had to hold onto
I have lost hope of a better tomorrow. Instead it is one filled with scarring, that I can’t escape.
I fear this entire “learning process” may end in my early exit… A door in the back of the theater, that is reserved for emergency personal. This is such an emergency.
Why I have lost hope in the face of this above all else blows my mind.
Maybe it is the lack of will power, or maybe, it is that a facial scar is a wound to deep.
Exposing me for what I truly am:
A coward and a fraud of the worst kind.
Hope is lost over the horizon.