Rock yourself to sleep

I find myself at the grocery store

pondering over 

mangoes

cherries

my life

a misplaced tomato

I walk up to the cashier

"excuse me, this tomato is not supposed to be here"

the cashier looks at me

I am not the tomato

don't worry 

this is not the story 

I am pondering over vitamins

vitamins lead to a healthy life

salads and smoothies

working out and taking long baths

a little me time

we have romanticized the most painful experience

healing is not beautiful

it is not photogenic

healing is ripping out 

what you thought defined you

it is endless nights 

of crying

over unknown parts of yourself

that you never thought would hurt

healing is realizing

it takes less energy to not exist

and maybe actually seizing to exist 

would be the way to completely heal

It is mathematically unproven

that smiling at the mirror will make you feel better

it is also mathematically unproven

that breaking the mirror 

will make you feel better

I break it anyway

I am bleeding excuses

of unwanted behaviors

my veins are clogged with hope

hope that what I'm looking for

lies within your eyes 

Save me 

Save me

Save me

and you say 

no

change happens when you understand 

noone can save you 

not even yourself

don’t you see?

the pursuit of happiness will kill you 

I promise my next poem will be a happy one

Going back to the misplaced tomato

it went where it belonged 

right next to dozens of other tomatoes 

tomatoes from Crete are better

but mostly in summer

and it is not summer

and I find myself storming out of the grocery store

I buy nothing

I couldn't make up my mind 

again

and I wonder

when will I change

when will I be this healthy happy person

why do I want to change

I am home 

I will order take-out 

again

I cannot change today 

when I pour the first glass of whiskey

I am not hungry anymore

I fall asleep on the couch 

to wake up to a half empty bottle

again 

I promise my next poem will be a happy one

I would like it to be a happy one

but healing means you have open wounds

and when open wounds heal, they itch

and this itching can sometimes drive you insane

tonight I will kiss no-one goodnight

healing means you have open wounds

and open wounds they smell

I carry this smell of convenience

I cannot be in the same room with myself 

healing means you have open wounds

and open wounds 

they bleed and they stain 

I don't want to stain anymore 

but I am healing 

and I promise 

I promise my next poem will be a real one