Strange SelfPortrait

Closer. Closer I want to look. Look in to the pale brown in my eyes. Look at the blues and purples on the bags under my eyes. I drag my feet against my wooden floor, down the hall way, I get to my doorway, the doorway... The doorway to my bathroom; I stand still, silent, and poorly postured. I am like a walking pair of eyeballs. I am a walking pair of eyeballs. I am a walking pair of eyeballs. I am a walking pair of eyeballs. A walking pair of eyeballs; that has booger-clogged-vision. That had his lights punched out. That is gushing out ocean worthy amounts out of his tear ducts. My nose is stuffed. Stuffed with all types of unnecessary clutter. Unnecessary clutter that just won't go away. That just drips out so fluidly. I can't breathe. I breathe in. Breathe out. My throat burns. My lungs ache. Although it is the lowest, as well as weakest form of drug; I am addicted. I wish I didn't care what it did to me. I wish I could make myself believe that the amount of orally fixated happiness I get from it, overpowers the health destruction it causes. But, I can't. Fuck a cigarette. Fuck a cigarette. FUCK A CIGARETTE! MORE THAN ANYTHING... I want a fucking cigarette. I don't want to be sick, I don't want to be sick, I don't want to be fucking sick any fucking more. Fuck a cold and fuck a cigarette. I would kill for a cigarette right now. Kill FOR A CIGARETTE. Kill. Cigarette. Kill. Cigarette. Kill. Cigarette. I breathe slowly and deep. Breathe in. Breathe out. I take out a shot glass, I pour half a shot of Smirnoff into the glass. I take out a lemon. I cut out two circular slices. I shove and stuff it into the glass. I take out a head of garlic. I rip off a small piece and cut it. Cut it into atoms of confetti. I mix that into the shot glass. I drink it. I shutter. I throw an awkward smile, followed by a frustrated sigh. That didn't make me feel any better. But it made me feel. Pinch me. I think, I'm in love. I think therefore I am. I am in love. I'm in love with the idea of love. I'm in love with life. I'm in love with my idea of love. I'm in love with my life.

I'm in love with my life.

Fin.