like it doesn't exist

i'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
i'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist

like it doesn't exist

i'm gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry
i'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier

and i'm holding on for dear life, won't look down won't open my eyes
keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause i'm just holding on for tonight

help me, i'm holding on for dear life, won't look down won't open my eyes
keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause i'm just holding on for tonight, on for tonight

sun is up, i'm a mess
gotta get out now, gotta run from this
here comes the shame, here comes the shame

There are so many things that reach out to me from this music video in a way that I can't accurately put into words. It's been playing in my head on repeat.

Where have I been? 

Inside that empty, crumbling house.

I've been going through the motions, but when no one is looking I'm kicking the walls and making ugly faces at myself, running wild and manic, and never even trying to open the door. 

I make promises. I make conflicting promises. I make conflicting promises about the conflicting promises. I'm not sure when I'm telling the truth anymore.

I left the Recovery Program. 

For good or bad, there it is.

I knew it was going to happen long before it did. I wasn't telling the truth. I wasn't trying. All my false sincerity was worn thin. I even stopped trying to play by the rules. When Molly's hours changed and she couldn't fit me into her schedule anymore, I didn't even care.

So one day, instead of driving to DBT, I sat in the Target parking lot for half an hour until I knew my therapist wouldn't be in his office. Then I called. I left a voicemail and made sure to say all the right things. And that was it.

It was helpful. In many ways it was helpful. I learned a lot. I met some really wonderful people. 

But it is exhausting to fake remorse.