As I pour myself a glass of liquid death,
I think back to the healthier me.
I think about what things have changed
and why I want this brew now.
I know I do not need it.
As it passes my lips,
I release a small sigh of pleasure.
Its dark sweetness is more than I can handle.
I know that in an hour I will be fully awake.
I know there is nothing that needs this now:
no homework, late night projects,
or even revamps on roleplays.
Yet, since pulling it out of the fridge,
I struggle to pull away from need.
It is want not need.
Need not want. Want not need.
I struggle, and continue pouring another glass.
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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
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