You’ve drunk too much.
You’ve drunk enough that there isn’t a real world any more.
Escorted from the party, chunks of time slide away into oblivion and you’re left staring into nothingness, stumbling through the streets, lost and alone. Streets blur and splinter before you. Nothing. Home and emptiness are no respite from the torment.
You’ve taken mushrooms mere days later.
There never was a real world.
Everything’s sticky, and bits of you keep falling away. No fear now, just emptiness at the end, we’ve been there. I’ve seen this all before.
You seem to be teetering on the brink friend, ready to fall again.
Look over the edge there, what do you see?
Drugs – forgotten too many times of late.
Everything quivers, waiting to erupt.
Hold on.
Just keep clinging to something.
You could, but given this unravelling, given these events that have destablised you, what would be the point? What are you clinging on to?
I’m not talking here about what would be easier. It’s easier to push on and ignore this. To pretend it didn’t happen. Again. The fact is, this happens often enough, and you know it does, that the truth is, you’re clinging on to nothing. Let go and breathe it in as you fall. Take me with you. Let’s flee, into the unknown, into the darkness. It’ll hurt, we know that now, but with that comes liberation. Enough.
There is a limit.
Not yet.
I keep telling myself.
Not yet.