Alive.

Awake again, 5am.
Mind blissfully empty.

The temptations set in.
Resist resist resist
don't give in.

Alive.

Relapsed or not, doesn't matter.
The day will go on regardless.

Alive.

Eat breakfast, shower, feed the pets.
All the usual routines.
Leaving just enough time to watch
mindless YouTube slop before work.

Alive.

Packages and packages,
dirt and grunge, machines humming.

10 miles walked in 4 hours, sweat-soaked,
body stooped from the labor.
Who needs a gym membership
when your job is a constant workout?

Alone.

The loneliness is back.
I should call a friend, ask for prayer, something.
The urges are back, feeding off of the loneliness.
Resist it . . .

I can't.
I'm not strong enough.

Relapse.

Can't ever seem to go more than two weeks.
Pain and misery.
Bury the emotions, shove them down.

Keep pushing forward.
Don't bother telling family and friends, they'll get tired of hearing about my consistent failure.

Alive.

The days drag on, and so do the relapses.
My will to fight weakening.
I'm existing, but am I living??

Alive.

Church, fellowship, friends!
Social batteries recharged for a little while.
The loneliness will return in a day or two.
Just need to enjoy these brief
moments with the people I care about.

Alive.

Fresh air, chirping birds, dogs playing,
wind rustling the leaves of the trees,
sunlight replenishing my Vitamin D,
pushing away the depressive feelings.
This is it, this is life, pure beauty of existence.

Relapse.

Ah well, here we go again.
Still holding onto hope.
Still praying that I'll find relief soon.
Not giving up yet, not as long as I'm still
alive.

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