The perfect crime.

I’m not sure what crushes you more, knowing you’ve reached the lowest point you could go or questioning is there an even lower point beyond this one?

I hit rock bottom. The drop from being in a place where I was just about coping to complete an utter lost of control. It is dramatic for even the most stable minds. I want to be upset with myself. I want to frustrated that I allowed myself to reach the darkest parts of the situation. I want to hurt myself more so I remember not to do it again. I want to do all that, and yet, I know there is no good from punishment. At least not punishing someone that is already in the midst of their own ‘crimes’. My crime, the one I created, planned the perfect heist, the intricate parts to think it would bring along happiness and relinquish all pain I had. But the ‘crime’ I am referring too is the evil mastermind that is; those horrible voices wanting me to get caught, they would rather you steal happiness and face the trauma later. Rock bottom is when you have your hands on the diamonds, the jewels, representing that missing part of you, it might feel good for a second to think you have IT. Until the lights come on. The alarms are blaring. The masked police catching you red handed with guns aimed straight for your heart. A stolen, false sense of glimmer, to be ripped away.

That is rock bottom for me.

The jewels that bring a false sense of joy to be taken away from you by the reality and remembering that taking happiness isn’t really yours to have. Because those that chase you down, the reality will catch you. To be caught when you feel like you were so close to what you wanted but actually they pull you away from that. It is the blind sight of not seeing that it was a huge mistake.

Rock bottom.

It’s the police cell they hold you in. Where you think and think and rethink it all. How did I get here? How did I get so low, that it all ended in a cell. The cell of emptiness and withdrawal from what is normality. The perfect crime would have been to taken the jewel and only the immediate pleasure of feeling better than the others that didn’t catch you. That’s what you feel you should have got. That should have been perfect. That’s what you craved and longed for. You just wanted jewels.

Rock bottom.

I was in my cell. In my room. No one can hear me bang the walls. No one can hear me plea for forgiveness or to let me out. No one cares. Rock bottom was being there, on my bottom, on the floor. I was caught for my crime. But I turned myself in. I, in a panic, in a clouded fog, sentenced myself to a visit home.

The rock bottom, what they don’t tell you about rock bottom is that, no where will be as bad. I’m not sure what’s worse. The blame you give yourself for getting to that place or the actual rock bottom you experience?

I’m sorry you went there. I’m sorry you were alone. I’m sorry you’re frustrated. I’m sorry things haven’t changed. But this is a change from what will be next. Nowhere will be as bad as this. You’ll get your jewels soon, and when you do, no crime will have been committed because it would have been yours to own in the first place. Your jewels.