Whispers of the soul

I wake up,

brush my teeth,

and like clockwork, I wander

to the kitchen for my pills.

Routine. Survival.

Something so easy,

yet today,

it feels impossible.

I don't want them.

Not today.

Not the false stability they promise,

not the veil of happiness

they drape over my chaos.

I want to be free.

Free from the swallow,

the dependency,

the dance with balance that I never

asked for.

I want to be normal.

Whatever that means.

But what choice do I have?

I can't raw-dog reality.

I can't just stop.

I've seen that movie,

and the ending is a storm–

no shelter,

no safety,

just chaos,

and the fear

I won't claw my way back.

Still,

a part of me whispers,

Maybe… maybe freefall is what I need.

To let go.

To tumble through the dark

and feel nothing–

nothing but the air rushing past.

To crash,

to burn,

to end it all

and finally,

finally

find peace.

Would it be so bad?

Tell me.

Would it really be so bad?

Because the thought–

the idea of my soul

finally resting,

untangled from the weight of it all ,

is a lullaby so sweet

I reach for it.

Fingers trembling,

grasping at shadows.

But the Grim Reaper laughs.

He has other plans.

And I–

I am still here.

Still breathing.

Still bound

to this cycle of fight and surrender.

So today,

I take the pills.

Not because I want to,

but because I must.

Because the freefall

can wait another day.