Impulsively Writing about the Misery of Myself

I'm amazed at how long.
I've managed to keep myself alive.
Without trying too.
Hard to keep living.
Mr Self Destruct.
Mr. Give Me Anything as Long as I'm baked.
Some life I sought, really.

In fact.
I tried not to live.
I sought death.
It seems like something or someone.
Is preventing me from dying.

And, I feel comforted in the comfortable annihilation.
I only feel in a deep sleep.
Or a concussive forcing me to wake up.
With rage and hate.
As my brain rockets off my skull

All this natural starvation.
This borderline anorexia.

And.

All these late nights.
With too much drugs.
Planning for nothing.
Building up a tolerance for all these overdoses.
Cause, tomorrow was always so far away.

And,
right now,
I feel like shit.
So, I recede into the nothingness.
Disconnect from reality.
Tune in,
drop out,
and get fucked.

And, while you all sought to make it this far.
I tried collapsing before the race was over.
I stumbled on the blocks and got lost in the run.
My legs failing.
My heart racing.
An over compensated fear that I.
Might.
Find myself still going.
When my legs dont work.
When my head is throbbing with blood.
With no motivation.

Just the cold hard defeat.
That.

I made it,
As the shock sets in and I think.
I wasn't prepared for this.
What do I do now?

Confusion.
Listlessness.