High's and low's

The new year does not always mean change
On January 1st, you will still be the same person
On May 27th, you will still be the same person
November 11th sounds promising,
I start the new year the same as every year,
in self-loathing
My moods are equivalent to valleys and plateaus
Slipping lower and lower in a dark sinkhole,
and when I can't go any farther,
I pathetically climb out to solid ground, gasping for air
This is the plateau,
Or rather,
I feel nothing, and I live for those moments
It's like a fucking drug to me,
an escape from myself
It's only a few minutes until I'm coming back down from the high,
back to the low
It's not enough, it's never enough
If the passing years have shown me anything, it's how fast and far I can run away from myself


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