Nightmare

I woke up covered in a sheen of cold sweat again this morning.
Lately my nights have been filled with terror and the early hours of the day consumed by a panic.
I don't dream anymore; these cannot be considered dreams.
All of my fears become more real when the darkness comes round.
Last night my illnesses manifested as shadow people.
Long limbed skeletal black figures shrouded in a thick sludgy smoke.
They were coming after me.
Seeping out of the darkest spaces of the room.
Leaving me breathlessly calling for assistance- help that not only never came but was laughed off by those supposed to cherish me.
I could feel them inside me ripping me apart.
In this hellish nightmare I would close my eyes and feel their fingers reaching up from my throat.
They were after my eyes.
They wanted to tear my flesh from my bones; pull apart my muscle tissue.
Expose me.
And I was so afraid.
So afraid that if they succeeded I would look upon my reflection in horror.
That when I saw my mirrored image I would see those monsters staring back at me.
Is this a side effect?
The last symptoms of withdraw tormenting me?
Or am I getting worse again?
Clean time means nothing when your mental state is in tatters.
It doesn't matter that you have twenty two, sixty nine, one hundred and thirty seven days clean.
Your sobriety doesn't matter when you're still testing your own mortality.
Searching for the white underbelly of your existence.
How can I claim to be okay when my mind resembles an acid fueled fun house distortion?
Am I clean or is the dirt just hidden beneath a layer of deception?
Is this an illusion of self confidence- of self care?
When I look in the mirror what will I see?

2.5.15

Three years ago today I tried to kill myself.
I have suicide attempt dates in March and August but for some reason it's this date that haunts me.
My mental stability is nonexistent.

I've officially relapsed in every way.
I have eleven burns on my wrist.
I'm restricting and purging again.
Getting more oxy this weekend.
Been thinking about overdosing.
I had an accidental overdose three weeks ago.
I don't remember anything.
All I remember was waking up out of it after being fed suboxone.
Apparently I was turning blue.
I had stopped breathing.
I shouldn't want to be dead.
I shouldn't want heroin after almost dying because of it.
But here I am.