allergy to anxiety

Husband keeps walking around saying “something bad is going to happen.” Not sleeping. Making perimeter checks. Pacing. Waiting.

Yelling at me that I need to quit my job. Yeah, he says that now. Let's see how happy he is when we are homeless and starving. Who will take care of our cat? He says none of these things matter. He says this he says that. He says something bad is going to happen.

Now I'm paranoid.

Feels like a knife running up and down my spine, cutting over and over. Feels like he doesn't appreciate the sacrifice I've been making to keep him in this POS house. His “family home”. Not feeling appreciated is just making me angry.

He has a point. I should get out of there, but he is not being realistic. He's not realistic about money. He says it's just money. That doesn't mean anything to me anymore.

If you can't eat it, burn it, barter with it, does it matter.

Adulthood has gotten it's teeth in, ready to chomp down again.

Tomorrow, back to work. I actually want to be there.

That's fucked.

It's the time of year for the annual family manic psychosis.

The un-medicated family waits
in the heat
and the sun
lack of wind
can't smell your enemies coming
so you pace
and you wait
and you check
and you re-check
and you wait
and you vigil
lose sleep
sleep with one eye open
ready the weapons
train for the run
sprint for the suicide
hope for a bright side
you know there isn't one

Please, a prayer to all the non-existent deities out there. Let us make it through this summer unharmed. Safe. Alive.

4:31 PM - Wednesday, Jun. 07, 2017


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