(no subject)
some people kill themselves quickly. in an instant they go from alive to dead. like a lightning bolt strikes fast and bright and vanishes just as rapid. they're they brave ones.
some people try to stave it off. ply their souls with the pseudo affections of alcohol and drugs. their chosen saviors slowly killing them.
is it self-destruction ? or a hapless form of self-preservation... their own path to forgiveness. reconciliation. with themsleves.
it's funny how the things we use to help us live often strip that away from us. like peeling paint. so painfully slow the layers fall away until only the naked walls are left. soft, porous walls of a life where every color penetrated so deep, but none ever seemed quite right. always a shade off. drying too dark. too light. whatever. somehow wrong no matter what.
the drinker's bottle so reflective of the stages of her life. begun so full, them emptying. and emptier yet. first one empty. and then steadily the empty soldiers gather. overtaking. and eventually, surrender. loss. acceptance.