I still don’t know how not to ruin myself. Majority of my...

I still don’t know how not to ruin myself. Majority of my conscious life destruction is all I’ve known. Loss is arguably the closest thing to feeling I have felt. The only skill I am truly good at is inventing delusions I am in control. That I am an expert at rectifying the sins of humanity passed down from generations such when Eve was born of Adam’s rib.

Honestly? Fixing myself is an addiction. An excuse to feel nice. An explanation to justify another empty bottle, lighted joint, vacated bed...