A bookcase ran away

Tinder, I met a boy on Tinder. It was lovely. I felt strong, attractive, looked for boys.

Then one night I decided I wanted to really sleep. So I took 5 Lorazepam. It wasn't enough though, so I took enough 10. And later another two Clonazepam. The day after my therapist was alarmed. Discussed hospital until I pointed out I don't have health insurance. Which made her make a stern face and ask me if I'd be back tomorrow with my Cobra paper work. I promised I would.

The boy picked me up at mytherapists's. Hungover, sick, sleepy, I talked him about suicide, just talking, forgetting normal people don't talk about stuff like that.

Normal people don't say, I have this friend with a plan to jump in front of the train and I thought maybe I'd ask if she wanted to.

He left, because it seemed I needed some alone time. I was sad for a moment because he wouldn't stick around and hold me like he cared.

Anyway, I got my cobra paperwork all together and I've lost all will to look for pretty boys. I want to cry, but I won't. I don't think there any point. I'll just listen to the music.


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