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insecuraholic
for years, i have subtly sipped the words of others.
they burn holes in my throat as i foolishly swallow my sorrows.
drinking and drinking until my glass is empty and every part of me is numb.
i start tripping over my own feet, clearly drunk off of what other people think of me.
it all started out as a silly blackout.
full of mental breakdowns and laced with self doubt.
but then my tongue got accustomed to the bitter taste.
and my throat became a roaring fireplace.
my cup continued to be filled.
while my addiction became my reality.
my mind was bored with the same old flame
and wanted to be buzzed in a new way.
my body wanted to feel a different kind of hate.
the kind that does not come from around me, but from within me.
the type that is impossible to see.
this resentment was not a cocktail anymore.
self hatred became my new drug and all i wanted was more.
more of ripping myself to shreds from the inside out.
more of destroying my soul as i go against the morals i had built for myself with my bare hands.
more of overthinking what my life was truly worth.
more of killing the parts of me that felt the most alive at times.
this new addiction suddenly became old.
and i was stripped of everything
including the broken mold which must have formed my corrupted soul.
now i must go along m ylife, awfully sober.
holding an empty bottle in my hand
an exhausted heart in my ribs,
and a rotten brain in my head.
i beg of you to learn from my mistakes.
set down that glass of posion made up
of what other people think of you.
for one sip is all it takes,
to ruin your life slowly and painfully.
until finally,
everything inside of you just breaks
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