A touch of paranoia keeps me safer than logic, she said. Suffocation and bleeding are fine so long as I’ve got the best view.
I’ve travelled the longest distance but it wasn’t across the heart but the fall before and thereafter, where the weight of pain is fatter than any goddamn, fleshy fantasy.
I’ve done words and drugs like fucking and dying. I know the mirror’s truth even when kissing the daemon’s lies. I’m the ultimate yo-yo girl, spinning in my head again, the fiction and the friction between the urgency to be and the animal urge to flee.
The only thing that I know I am, is Me… just me…
Impressions from a conversation with an interesting lady in rehab.