Monotony is a life I cannot endure and like the Chinese torture of a thousand cuts, each ordinary minute, and every plain hour, is an excruciating drain of my sanity's blood. My brain, being calloused by experiences that nearly destroyed me, strangely created a need for that danger to survive and manipulates me to destroy my success to create the drama I'm addicted to. I've an endless thirst that cracks my tongue and mind with desire for the spiraling waters of a hurricane, a wind blown vertical rain that stings my eyes and makes me feel a desire for living for the next second. My thoughts never wander from survival in a storm long enough for the pain of worry and boredom to take effect. Feeling pressure from being good for to long leaves me open the tedium of thoughts that pin me beneath their weight. When I'm fighting for survival, struggling to gasp another breath, there's no room for the mad thinking that sickens me and drives my weary soul deep into the blackness of insanity. Push me toward the edge and as I fight to keep my ground, I'll smile at the fight that, if only for a moment, gives me release and a reason to live...then, I look outside and see a squirrel eating the seeds I laid out for it and a smile crosses my lips. Little things like that bring a new way of thinking, of living, of dying. Maybe by bringing sustenance to the world, I'll keep my shit together and not go stark raving mad. I'm in the boot camp of recovery, and this is my training to rebuild a broken mind.
First Published in Opinions Of Eye