this morning #928.

this morning, i was standing at the kitchen counter popping pills. down the hatch. one by one by one. for once, i was doing so for function & not for fun. a clinical cocktail designed to keep me alive. a malady of my own making. peak irony. set a timer. wait an hour. make a meal. feel mostly okay. i did this to myself. tell my other self that i didn’t do this to myself. settle down in an old easy chair under the sun in the solarium. breathe deep. be grateful for the solarium. state aloud that this space is fated to be the focal point for my healing. i can just feel it. plants & sun & shit. growing up real quick. humility but not humiliated. keeping optimistic for now.