Taken by the Wind

 I wake up. Most days I try to keep my eyes closed for as long as possible. Most days I feel dread. Dread. It's even hard to type it. I'll smoke a bowl, to settle my nerves. Most days that's enough to make it bearable. I'll still struggle to get up. I like to spend a lot of time dreaming of what I could do, not actually doing it. The dream, every day, is to run away. I like to fantasize about floating in the air or underwater. I like the thought of feeling light. Admittedly, I wonder if that's what death feels like. These thoughts help me cope. I focus on feeling nothing for as long as I can. But some days are worse. Some of the days I claw at my skin. Some of the days I have to rock myself back and forth. Some days I force myself to take a xanax so that I won't cry all day. All of the sudden I feel everything. It scares me when it feels like this heavy, dark, posion in my stomach. I can't put my finger on it. Something is inside of me and I want it out. It&