Concious, but not really awake.
Drifting on a boat that constantly seems to sail South, down.
I slumber in and out of sleep, vaguely dreaming of not being in here.
Here, where I am vulnerable and my status is “sick.”
I don’t want to be sick. I want to be “me.”
I cannot stop myself from forgetting,
though I try so hard to remember. How it was not to be in here.
The poison in my veins are my only Hope,
Hope to be fully awake again.
The cars swish by and people walk fast to get where they are going. I watch them through my hospital room window.
I cannot walk. I cannot drive. I am in here.
Why can’t they see me? How can they just go on, while I am in here?
I am angry; i cry out in anguish.
Frustration mixed with anxiety, i clench my fingers as tight as my weak body will allow.
How can the birds still churp?
How can the sun still come up?
How can people eat, work, sleep and enjoy life while I am in here?
Then I hear a voice; when I am at my darkest point.
He says; “I will never give you something that you cannot handle Chanel.”
A tear sweeps down my cheek and I can feel my heart beat faster. I can hear it beating.
It is beating. I am alive. I am really awake.