sober never feels quite as fun as nearly-unconscious. everyday blends into one continuous stroke of a brush on xanax flavored canvas. and one more stroke is all you could ever want. i see the days blend from one to the next and try to decipher them from each other. i try to force a line across the room like rival siblings. i convince myself it must end before it becomes too much. i see clear for now but the haze of the blended days comes all too easy for me. im addicted. not falling on the floor, drooling, pawning my television addict. im self diagnosed, knowing its all too much when really its never enough. if i cut its roots now, we may all have a chance. but its not always as easy as it seems.