Everyday I wake up in constant pain.

Not physical. But it might as well be.

Cause I'm hurting. Deep down, I feel like giving up.

On people. Family. Myself. Life.

But I don't. I can't. Too much of a wimp to grab a pistol and hold it to my temple, saying, "Fuck the world."

Too afraid to wrap a belt around my neck and take that magical leap that would finally end it all.

Too scared to have my mom come home and see what mess her little girl made this time.

So I find solace in that beautiful plastic bottle.

My little slice of heaven. My Fortress of Solitude.

I pop a pill or two and let it take me on a kaliedascope journey.

Somewhere where the pain can't find me and joy exists.

Where I can escape the never ending questions of whether or not I'm okay. Where I don't have to look into the eyes of people who "love" me and plaster a syrupy sweet smile and "I'm just fine."

Cause I'm not.

This is where I'm alone. Secluded. Just me, myself, and I.

Where I live in total oblivion to caring, pain, and external reality. I believe that's Nirvana. Yeah, Nirvana. 

Then it all goes away. Poof. Gone. Right back here in my anti-utopia.

So I take out two and swallow again. Then one more just for good measure.....