My therapist tells me to write more.
Isn’t it your outlet, she asks
But I always falter when I start something, let my cursor hover, blinking
Blinking
And then I leave it
I don’t know what to say
Today as I obsess again over all the things I should have said right
It occurs to me how continually unsettled I am in my own skin
How I shrug and pull and
Nothing is comfortable, or isn’t for very long
I try to drink less but I am happiest just slightly buzzed, just that much less conscious of every racing thought
I don’t know how to be me
alittleloveandsympathy 