The Bad Days

Days like today are the worst. Your breath twists in your throat and tears in your lungs and you shift between wanting to scream and lash out or biting your lip to stop from bawling for no reason at all. It's days like today when your skin doesn't fit right over that black sludge you call a soul and you just want to boil and scrub away all of the sins you have ever even thought about committing because everything agitates you. You're not half as careful with your words as you usually are, the nasty razor-edged things cut your lips as they skip free. It's hard, because you know tomorrow will be worse, that itch twisting just out of reach under your skin. The day after that doesn't even bear thinking about. You'll be living in an alcoholic daze until this passes, the manic highs and screamingly angry lows and that goddamn flinch every time you hear a noise. But it always passes, always. All you can do is curl up in a dark corner and hope against hope you don't say something that you can't mend with quick words and an easy, self-deprecating smile.