April is the cruellest month…

I remember seeing mama waving her hands across the curtain, giving a benediction. My hallucinations kept me entertained to the workings of my brain. Cars traveling on astral journeys. An overdose of mirtazapine to put me to sleep, not eternally but just to rest. I got my wish with a scar that won’t ever leave. A reminder that  I don’t need to wish for death, it’ll find me eventually. It helps when there’s someone to listen, but they look at you with pity knowing there’s only so much you can control inside your skull. Call it illness, medical or spiritual, but it ails you, and you feel like the only relief is a release from your body that absorbs the pain, wherever its source. Pain is a funny thing in that sense. Describe to me your pain: “It hurts”. But if I’ve never felt it, I can still somewhat imagine it from you. Call it an aura or a spirit, soul or essence, I don’t care for metaphysics but I feel you. You move me.