Sugar Rush

I retreat to the bottom of my lonely milkshake. The straw and I probe for the sickening sweet feeling of certainty. Long gone empty, we wilt under the weight of regret. How the rush had filled our emptiness within, how it left us nothing but sorrow.

A second milk shake, one more time. Oreo cookie, classic vanilla, strawberry cheesecake, they are all the same. I weep as they tip the shake upside down. I cry for them, I cry for me. Sometimes this makes me feel better. They must hate themselves too, the gate keepers of misery. Doesn’t everybody? Certainly after reaching rock bottom twice, I do. I’m ashamed to even look at them even though I know they understand.

So home I head to curl up into my ball of nothing. Manchester by the Sea is on, and I wallow deeply. Thank God the bottom is not such a lonely place, many reside in the eternal emptiness forever. I hope to leave soon. Tomorrow will be better, it always is.