Alone.
Wrapped up-suffocated-with in the blankets.
Trapped.
Clawing at my skin-breaking-Ready to scream.
I hate myself. This weight. This body.
My eyes are glazed over. My chest is tight. I need to escape from myself.
Avoidance.
Solitude.
Empty.
Insecurities keeping me locked away. I taste the air outside, only for the sake of inhaling the smoke. Then I retreat back to the covers. Hoping that the next time I get up I'll weigh less.
+ .1
+ .2
+ .4
I want to die.
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