She says I’m in a downward spiral and I don’t fuckin care anymore.
And she’s right. I don’t. I like fucking the pain away and staying up so late that I can’t think straight. I’m okay with going home and crying myself to sleep. I don’t care. This is better than feeling empty. Anything is better than that. And to be honest, I’d go back to the needle if I could. Sleep my pathetic life away.
Every time I’m about to say how I feel I’m gonna stop myself because I swear to god I’ve said the same shit and people just forget. I’m fucked up and that’s my reason from now on.