Empty.

I get home after work. Scrolling my phone but not doing or looking at anything in particular. Lost in thought. There’s a bottle of wine on the table. I’m aware of the hunger in my stomach. But I don’t bother to cook anymore. I haven’t since I resumed work. The holiday was good. Company is good. I’ve always enjoyed my own company. But not anymore. The demons visit when I’m alone. I barely sleep. The wine helps. But I’m aware of my consumption in empty stomach and the frequency of my intake. It’s no longer about enjoying a glass or two after work, it’s now a way to silence the voices. I’m afraid of my own company. The noises are louder. Is this how it starts? Or how it ends. I’d set out to do some personal work to preocuppy myself. But it’s the same every evening. I hold senseless conversation and has become quite good at convincing people I’m okay. I laugh more often. I’m starting to believe it myself. Almost.

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