Thick darkness dragging the back of my head to the floor.

The evenings have been falling quickly, too quick for me to get out of bed in time to see the sunset.

I haven’t seen the sunrise in months. My blackout curtain, which is really just a table cloth, has become an addiction. Being able to hide feels too welcoming these days. 

These days are passing so quickly it’s almost unfair. 

I haven’t left my house, solely to feel the air on my skin in months. 

I haven’t sat on a bench or looked at the sky. 

I am drinking again. And I am afraid to admit that. 

I am afraid to let down the people I’ve told that I’m doing better. 

But then September came and went and October flew in without my consent. 

I have these fleeting thoughts about being kind, and giving when I have nothing. But the feeling of emptiness and nothing to offer turns into selfishness and then makes excuses. 

I wanted to do something good on the full moon, but instead I drank a beer. 

I was supposed to go to the gym, but then I didn’t. 

Supposed to go to another job interview but then I didn’t. 

For the most part I make it work. I clean when I need to clean, I don’t let myself fall apart completely. 

But then again my standards are very different.

I think some people might look at me and see something a bit distasteful, and it’s the first time in my life I’m being told I don’t try.

Not the first time I’m being told, but the first time I really believe it.

I will always stand by art and what it does for the soul, my soul, but what is my art if it’s only ended up being fuelled by my addiction? 

Where is the girl who would get stuck drawing on her homework instead of doing the math equation, and feeling fuelled by that alone, even for a moment, before they told me it’s not allowed. That girl is here; she is right here. I’m just slowly digging her out of the earth. 

My family gets worried when they read what I write, and what I post for the world to see, but isn’t it just what we’re all thinking all the time?

And if it’s not, what is so wrong with sharing what’s inside me? 

I think maybe it might help someone, even if that person is just me. 

This is me displaying myself so I can find the ones who are gentle with what they find. 

If I can be so raw and honest, it might make it so I am protected.

To be curled into yourself makes it easier for a predator to find weakness. 

To lie on the floor with my belly upturned in surrender, makes it so jealousy and hate and teeth are forgotten. 

It is to make a friend and a friend and a friend and to make them feel good about themselves. Because sometimes that is all I have to offer. Not money, not drinks, not a clean house, 

But I can offer finding the good in every single person. Finding something to adore; and make them know I adore it. 

I’m going to get this job, this job that helps people. 

I’m not going to sling drinks anymore, watch my boss throw a dustpan across the room because he needs a drink. 

I’m going to send the email and get the job that helps people. 

I’m going to be as nice to myself as I am to other people. 

I am going to help myself the same way I intend to help other people.

By Jamie Ramsay

Thick darkness dragging the back of my head to the floor.

The evenings have been falling quickly, too quick for me to get out of bed in time to see the sunset.



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