Undiscovered

"relapse" they declare. you shrug. the word means nothing to you. you've heard it so many times that you've forgotten the difference between relapse and that other state of being...what is it? wholeness? cured? oh yes, recovered. no one ever declares that one. "relapse" they say again, trying to get a response from a creature lost in another world. with a pitiful sigh, you try to act affected. you try to gasp along with them, to partake in their sympathy for your patheticness. but you can't, not really. for you know that you've been falling for quite some time. that you lie awake night after night, wondering if anybody will step in before you lose it and fall into a pit of emptiness and dead-ends. you're scared, but simultaneously, you crave the hole you know you can create. you crave it more than anything in this world. your fate is undiscovered, but you know how it's going to end, eventually. eventually the sand will seep inside, slowly burying you alive. by then you'll be half-dead anyway, welcoming each grain into your pit of self-destruction. one day it will be enough. until then, you take the pills and hope for fate to hurry the fuck up.