The Month That October Came

It's been a while. I was thinking I wasn't so screwed up in my head anymore. I know better than to let my guard down, but there are still things that I need to learn from experience. This was one of them.

I tried to kill myself. Key word is "tried". I'm okay. Like, genuinely okay, not that I am to be believed.

I moved to Boston. Got my own apartment. It was nothing fancy, but it was enough. Every meal I cooked tasted better in that little kitchen. Went to school. Got pneumonia and a stalker.

And now I'm here. Fun fact; if you're getting medical treatment in Boston, you're not allowed to get transferred to your home state. Even if you've only been here for two weeks and everyone you have ever known is back in Maine. Even worse, if you're here for mental health issues, you can't opt out of any treatment. Legally, I can be held here for up to six months. Shiver.

I'll go home soon, I think. And by home, I mean Maine. But also my apartment and also the cafe. By home, I mean my bed. And also a cold empty room and also salt and vinegar chips.

I don't feel like myself. I'm tired and sluggish. The meds are sinking down into my brain. My head feels so heavy. It's filling with water.I want to g home and I want to go to sleep and I want to stay awake for the rest of my life so I can figure out what metamorphisis is taking place inside me. I want to know what changed. I want to know which neurons need mending.

I'll be writing poetry again. I haven't written any in so long. There was nothing to write about.

There's so much to write about now.