sleeping sickness.

that feeling is back. the one that makes me want to die. the one where curling up in a fetal position and cry for days seems like the only way for me to live. when crying yourself to sleep makes it even all that harder to get up in the morning. with eyes swollen and massive headache. close to a hangover. when veins are ready to cry out all over my clothes and floor. when limbs want to be broken, so maybe the shit the goes on in my head will stop circling around and i can concentrate on my broken bones and not you. broken bones hurt less and heal much faster. that feeling when binge drinking seems like an alternative to life. you wake up with a hangover, if you wake up at all. and that hangover will consume you for the rest of the day. a throbbing headache. a dizzy head. stomach pain. acidic vomit. all these things seem wonderful compared to having you run around freely in my head and especially in my heart. if you're lucky, though, you don't wake up at all. when at night you get on your knees and pray the god you don't believe in to let you sleep for eternity. to not let you open your eyes one more time. to end all this. times like these, pill bottles are your friend. your best friend. there should be a pill for heartbreak. i'd overdose on them. hand around my neck, your hands around my neck, this is all i ask. all i want. to die with your pretty, pale, beautiful, soft hands tightening around my neck. to feel my breath lost. my veins collapsing and my brain shutting off at the lack of oxygen. to orgasm into oblivion. all i need is your face and touch to feel the glory of the most amazing moment of ecstasy. do me that favor, please, and kill me. give me at least that and make this feeling stop.

it's just one of those days. that feeling is back.