Crutch

It's currently 5:48am. Today technically, is the new year. The year is 2020. I don't feel any different, I don't have any feelings of change, or difference. So when I hear, "happy new years" I feel numb. Numb to joy, or any sort of new feeling. I think it's because I have been stuck for so long, I don't have an idea of something different. I'm drinking, but today as a celebration, to be happy. Yet, as I take another sip, another drink, I feel all the more sad. I think I use alcohol as a crutch, to make me write or to feel some sort of way. My mind usually doesn't care about anything, and when I drink it makes me throw myself into whatever I see. Like I can completely chuck myself into fucking traffic. I can see it now, windshield cracked, blood smearing onto the pavement, and the gasps of onlookers. I keep cutting off my limbs, but they keep growing back. They keep coming back, like roots digging deep into my skin, like a cancer that has been hidden in my blood.