It used to come and go. It used to be all about if I could get sleep. If I could take my pills and then an hour or two later pass out for 8,9, 10 hours nothing else mattered. I just needed sleep, even bad sleep with nightmares, that’s all that was important. I would reset and it would all be ok again. So there would be times when I couldn’t do that and I’d wind up in the hospital or strung out somewhere and I know that was bad, but it would all work out in the end because I’d find my way. My way back to the right meds where I’d be able to pass the fuck out and sleep.
But it’s not happening right now. It hasn’t been happening. I take the pills, I pass out. I’m sleeping. And there are no dreams that drag me down. I wake up and it’s there. That’s all I know. It’s just there. Waiting for me. I can’t find my way around it. There are no voices. I’m not being talked to. It’s just this knowledge. This constant understanding. I know that there is a list of things that need to be accomplished, achieved. And if I can get it done, if I can work on this list of tasks and somehow manage to get enough done. Or all of it done maybe. It will lift. I will be left in peace again.
There is no other way.
It’s just a matter of time.
When I break. When I fall.