doesn't rhyme and doesn't reason (I'm Tired)

It starts with losing my appetite.
Nothing sounds good,
And the state of my kitchen sink and fridge
Is sad enough from neglect already.

My mouth grows cotton mouthed,
My throat hurts, and I cough more
From chain-smoking cigarettes
Until I run out, even if they're all I taste.

Crowds feel like suffocation,
And every conversation is a strain.
I have nothing to talk about,
And if I do, it's a thought of regret.

I see hands reaching out for me
Willing to be the one I can lean on,
But for some reason they don't feel safe.
So I go away to hide my fall.

I ache to be wrapped up tight in arms
So I am free to cry, scream, or sleep,
I hate being touched, unless we are close,
And the ones I'm closest to aren't good for me.

I feel the impulse rising up,
See the signs, know the detour,
Yet it feels like I am watching myself
As a mere observer, not the one in charge.

The house is messy, I skip showers,
My art is undone, and I'm overwhelmed.
No one is here when I'm fighting all alone,
Not even someone to anchor me when I have to clean.

I don't trust other addicts because I don't trust myself.
Even in recovery, I'm afraid we'd only fuel each other's misery.
I want to surround myself with more of what I want to be,
But what if I relapse and fuck up their life?

I'm starting to wonder if this is all I'll ever be,
If I'd be a good mother if sole responsibility fell on me,
If all my education, talent, and dreams are worthless now,
If people really mean it when they say they believe in me.