Learning how to cope.

I'm stuck. Mentally, physically, emotionally. I dug this hole myself though, so I refuse by all means to complain. I've drained so much of me out, strained myself until I've over extended my existence. I have so much to say, so much to catch up on with past words, unspoken but recognized words that have seemingly been used against me, as of lately especially. Before, I would melt, I would write until the moment seemed to ease up, just a bit, I would allow myself to shut off, to just release whatever was on the tip of my tongue, to collect it, that's all, no further inspection, no further dissection. I'd sit on my boyfriend's bed and just vent, vent about anything and everything because I had to, anxiety had taken a bigger bite out of reality than I could taste, for I grew tasteless. When I had first realized the tug, the strenuous claim that life had apparently decided to call on me at the time, I didn't know how to react. I wound up at hospitals in the middle of night, hooked up to an iv, listening to people plead to lovers in hospital beds around me, I'd watch time pass slower than a clock could ever count, seconds ceased to exist and in exchange my life was reminded by critters that crept by, insects replacing seconds, time had suddenly realized my existence and wouldn't leave my side until I had taken notice of it, and once I did, once I began to catch up with it, it had already wrapped itself around my neck, choking me from the inside out, centipede legs with the bodies of lusting leaches that led marches of misled maggots through the sores I carelessly left open. An open sore became my very existence to say the least. I smoked crack in a parking lot and then rampaged in a van with a butcher's knife, a broken heart, lost eyes, and a blue crush Gatorade towards any direction that showed any sign of you. You. You. You. You could easily be placed with the blame for being the core of these crazed circumstances. I was, in fact, searching for you. You. You, you're gone now. I digress. Anyways, I don't know how to do this, how to collect my thoughts in an orderly fashion. Muse. Muse, am I just a muse, to anyone I come into contact with? Am I only searching for one?