or at least thats what they call it. i call it pain straight up your nose right to your face. what a very odd month. what a very odd week. day. night. i get home wanting booze. and end up with a tiny tease of dope. and then everyone heads off to fun. and im left getting a quick call from the one guy i no longer talk to. unfortunately. just to sell me more dope. that i truly do wish i could afford. but. lately. im conserving oddly enough. saving. paranoid. i wish he had called for different reasons. just to ramble on. or ask me why i completely and utterly stare through him now. like hes just not there. not even a ghost. ghosts get reactions. i look through him. its my way off discarding people. if i make them not exist. its easier. now here i am high as a bit. and deep thinking. worrying. hurting. whining. the usual. i still want the booze. but. i know better. and i said that last night was it. and ive said that a million times. but. this time id like to really mean it. this time id really really really would love to mean it. to stop lying to myself. to stop saying TOMORROW. TOMORROW. THIS IS THE LAST TIME. I PROMISE. you know youre not the best person when you cant even keep a promise to yourself. yourfuckingself. the one person that matters most on this shithole planet. and youre lying to them. to you. i want to mean it. i want to look back and say I FUCKING DID IT. finally. i want this APE off of my hurting aching tired yearning back. do you know how often i hear. YOU COULD HAVE IT ALL IF YOU WANTED. WHY DO YOU KEEP HURTING YOURSELF. i have no reply. but. im tired of blindly turning away. even from myself. (note: this is some good shit) i want to love again. and not love in the generic ive found my soulmate way. i genuinely want to care. i want to feel anything again. even heartache. i oft wonder know if it is too late for me to become that person i picture in my mind all of the time. ill admit in some ways ive become a better person. (note: not lately at work mind you but in general) i want to be the dreamer i was as a child. where every pain in the world felt like my own and i drew it out whether by writing drawing singing or just showing affection. i want to be the me that people were happy to see. the honest me. the poor little me i let become so fucking bad. so rotten. for nothing. for highs. for lows. for more bad times then good. and more good times that turned bad. ive been here 3 long years. all ive accomplished is: 1. giving up everything for booze 2. a brief period of homelessness 3. losing the one job i fucking kicked ass ast and wouldve moved up in quickly 4. losing many many many good friends 5. tons and tons and tons of money 6. losing my car 7. wrecking reys house 8. embarassing myself a few thousand times 9. injuries 10. ending up with the same feeling i had in erie that drove me off to make a change i guess it didnt work did it? i guess runningaway isnt the answer ever. but. why the hell not. why cant it fix things. i guess it depends on the person. ive gone into work drunk a million times already at my brand new jobs that i havent even been at for about a month. they havent said anything. but. itll come if i continue. and then what? sure the jobs blow and i dont get paid enough. but. at least im getting paid and can afford to live in a home still. im not sure where im going with this. these are the same things ive written about for the last year or so. i will no longer fear dying young. because im wasting precious time. because im tired of not living at all. im tired of dreaming of a life. when i have a perfectly screwed up one right here. one night at a time.