It's that time again. I've'nt been this consistent with updates in a long, long time. Maybe I'm circling the bottom. Must be something dramatic because I hate this keyboard. I kind of hate this laptop too. Fifteen inches but sans bezel. I miss my 17in. Sure it was cumbersome but at least it had a full-sized keyboard. Any surprisingly more USB ports. Why I've decided to waste lines on that I don't think I'll ever know. Lie. I know exactly why. I don't want to discuss what's really on my mind right now. It's been a rough day. And not just because I'm abusing contractions. Pull up a seat.
I'm abusing the crap out of these contractions. I'm also listening to a certain playlist while I plug away at the keys. (humble link -- Momentum) The point is that I'm on a time limit and haven't even gotten to the true point. Story of my life. Oh, surprise, I'm down. Maybe that'd be a better alias. Call me Down, I'll never be Up. Doesn't have the same appeal as my other but since there's likely only one person who'd get that reference I'll just let it die there. I get it. I really do. I need help.
So what's what? I find myself alone again. That's not new. I've been touching on that for like two weeks already. I want what I can't have. Sure. I want to believe that maybe there's some thing or some one who can fill this void in my life. Maybe I should go back to abandoning life. Was easier when death was a blessing. Wow, I miss my attachment to death. Maybe I should start drinking again. What is the point?! Get to the point! Right.
She doesn't want me. I still want her. It won't end well for me. I'm accepting that. But still feel like I'm drowning. Is there anything I want that I can actually have? Or is this it? Just one failure after the next, just barely getting by until my time finally runs out? Today was a rough day.
I've been isolated personally and now, today, professionally. This keeps happening. That means it's me right? Can't be everyone else if I'm the constant. Or so the saying goes. This playlist is really not meant for this kind of writing. Like I'm sloshing through. Can't see, can't think. Getting hit with nostalgia. Hard. Reminiscing. The good and the bad. Mostly the bad. Taints it all. Can't even cry. I told her about the hurt. Never told anyone about that. Maybe this is what I've been wanting for so long. Maybe she's what kills me. Directly or indirectly. Maybe she'll be what sets me free. Water's up to my eyes. Choking on this fake future I know I'll never have. Why'd I have to start dreaming again? Why can't I get passed this? Why can't I find a place I belong?
Why don't I just kill myself