excuses excuses.

Bounderies. We don’t have them. Because we aren’t. I put all my cards on the table only to have you shuffle them and spit them back. 52 card picking up my scattered bullshit. A clear definition never found. I walk around 5 by 5 all day. Every other minute thinking about what I screwed up. My heart smashes against my rib cage in anger. Tearing itself to pieces. I’m so exhausted. I’m so tired of me. No excuses for my behavior. Psychologically speaking I’m fucking scared. I retract. I react. I drink. I drown. I need. I touch. I scream. I bleed. I cry. I wake up. And then, the endless merry go round begins again.
I betrayed you. I’m trying to figure out why. I’m getting help. I’ll go to the meetings. Ill take the pills the doctor says to take instead of self medicating with booze. I don’t know what’s in store for the future. I need to figure out who I’ve become this last month. And why.