Pits of Despair Part 5

V

My bed is backed into a corner of the room. It faces East but there is no sun. It is mid April and I am slipping away into darkness. I spend most of the day and night in bed, huddled in the corner, either drunk, hungover, or sleeping. I scratch at my forearms repeatedly and pick at the scabs, hoping that it will speed up the healing. Au contraire.

The TV drones in the background, providing no entertainment or enjoyment. It is just a presence in an isolated life.I bought it used and it didn't come with a remote. If I had the energy, I would change the channels.

My sole caloric intake is alcohol. Because of this, I lose weight and I lose track of time. One day I woke up and couldn't decide if it was Thursday or Friday. It was Wednesday. Time crawls like the muddy waters of a bayou.

I mourn my losses: finances; dignity; family; friends; and freedom. I grieve that I have been abandoned by those who were supposed to support me. I carry my physical and emotional pain like an overstuffed backpack. I’m not playing the victim, but I know that there are people in this world who like to see others suffer. No one can yet explain to me why that is so; why it should be me; and why God, if She exists, allows this to happen to me.

I reach my limits. Then I reach for a full bottle of acetaminophen.