I have been smoking, drinking, pill popping, whatever. I don’t feel it’s going to stop anytime soon, and I don’t feel that it won’t escalate into something worse. With all the money about to come in and nothing real to spend it on, I fear that it will all drive forward my obsession of losing myself to find something that’s not actually there. I’m kind of an alcoholic now, never used to drink by myself or to just feel something, always social, nowadays it seems like every few dollars I can scrap together goes into a forty or tall can or some bullshit. But it’s not like money is ever an issue, even if I don’t have it, I’ll find my way around somehow. I have an addictive personality, whatever.
I’m alone. That can mean a lot of things. What it means for me is, I don’t have you. Anything beyond that is irrelevant.
I am depressed. It seems I’m just getting older with no purpose or direction but more responsibility and opportunity that I don’t even want to take up because I can’t accomplish anything anymore. Everything I do end up right back to where I was before. Obviously I’m not right. Right? I’m on fucking tumblr writing bullshit about this and that because I can’t sleep because I over think and I’m not on anything. Weird.
There are days where I don’t completely remember things or sections of the day.
It’s sad, pathetic, just like you told me I was.
And why am I still on it? Why am I still hurt? There’s a lot of questions I could be asking, want to ask but I learned to not ask any questions that I don’t want to know the answer to.
I don’t really know how far I can bury myself in this bullshit, I don’t even know if I can get myself out. Actually I can’t. I never could. That’s where you came along. Helped me out. Now, nothing.
I’ll be fine right?
Of course.
Actually I don’t know.