it will happen like this;
one day you will be so tired of yourself and the rolling days and the sleepless nights, and you've never liked coffee before but you'll take it and you'll mix in four sugars and you'll wince with every sip but you'll drink it all. then each step is a little lighter, and the mornings a little less cold and suddenly you'll realise you've forgotten what it felt like to just be awake all by yourself.
and one day you'll cry at school and all the people walking past won't stop and your friends won't have the right words like they used to. you'll sit and you'll shake until your tears have bled you of everything that you've got, and suddenly you'll realise you don't even have the energy to be sad anymore. and you'll go home with tear streaked cheeks and your mother won't ask you what's wrong and you'll go to bed and you'll realise that maybe there's more comfort in darkness and silence than you've ever known before.
it will be the weekend and you'll come home alone and drunk and sort of sick and you'll look at the paintings under your bed and the books in the shelf and you'll realise that you haven't touched them for years and you'll be sad because even if you did, they probably still wouldn't be fun anymore. you'll wish you never gave up reading, painting, singing when you're alone. you'll wish you'd never forgotten the way it felt to have the world make you curious.
you will feel rough hands on your skin and wonder why you're here. you will hear moans and you will be unable to reciprocate them, you'll feel weak and eventually you'll roll over and you'll wish they would hold you and tell you you're beautiful and loved but instead they'll leave. and by the time you're alone you've forgotten how to tell these things to yourself.
the lights will be bright, but you'll close your eyes because its more comfortable that way and you'll lose yourself in the haze and in the mess of bodies around you. and you'll drink whatever's in front of you and take whatever's been put on your tongue and you'll walk home with make up smeared in the sunrise and you'll throw up until you fall asleep.
and you'll fall to the ground in pain, more than once. the people you loved will walk away time after time, and you'll forget what it feels like to trust. you will look at old photos and cry. you will want to be anywhere else in the world. and the only thing that will get you up in the morning is the appointments, the paper, the coffee you wished you never started drinking, the fact that there's nothing else to do.