there was an egg in my throat
i could not see tomorrow
it would soon not be here.
my diet consisted of white wine, cigarettes and xanax with the occasional bananna.

I'd wanted my bedroom to be all white when I moved in.
The dining room, tv room and parlour had colors of their own.

For my sleeping room, only white.

The first morning I went to place my feet on the floor, my stomach rose to my throat.
The alps inverted.

How could it be?
With all of my best intentions, with all of my soul. It was gone.

A window broken. A party to attend.

There was nothing I could do but put my feet on the ground and try and move on.

It took me over a year to sleep again.
10 months to eat again.

I didn't think I'd ever see the other side. It was all my fault and he would have me believe none the less.

I was fragile. Emotional. Weak. Needy.

Was I these things? I did not know anymore.
I only knew what he told me. I did not know myself at all anymore.
The sun blinded me.
The nighttime left me lonely. Terribly alone.

I sat. I thought. I contemplated.
I thought I could make sense of it all. I thought I could see myself out of it.