The Bloody Doors Off

Today is brutal. That I’m writing about it right now is a marvel.

Yesterday was bad, but I kicked my ass hard enough to go out later that night to join Mollie at the casino in Niagara Falls. It’s a run we’ve done in the past, and always had a good time. But last night. Long weekend, drunk idiots, too much stimuli. Couldn’t sleep a wink on the way home. Got in at 11 and crawled into bed for a four hour nap.

Or rather, that was the plan. I tossed and turned. I kept waking up. (This is why I take pills to knock me out at night.) The alarm finally went off and I crawled out from under the sheet.

It’s been downhill since. I know it’s a slide. I know, in the grand scheme of things, that it’s temporary. But right now, I feel like I’m breaking apart. And I’m still not tired enough to go to bed and forget about the past several hours. Inside, I’m screaming my head off. Outside, I’m a blank slate.

I need sleep. I need something. Escape. A break in the humidity. An uptick in pills. No, can’t think like that. I’ve got a pharmacy as it is.

It’s dark outside. It’s dark in here. Someone please shine a light.