waking up should feel like the start of something, a beginning, something, but it doesn't. It feels like yesterday and the day before and the haze doesn't settle before my second cup of coffee and a cigarette or two. I wish I could make my self give a fuck but it took all I had and two sleeping pills washed down with a glass of gin to even get the three hours sleep I have had. My ability to give a fuck went out the window on day three of this shit and it is now day twelve so no fucks will be given under any circumstance.
I have no idea what I need to do, so I do nothing. I sleep when I can, I smoke, entirely too much, and I sit and feel empty. And you watch it happen and it doesn't faze you because you aren't really watching any way. As long as I nod on occasion in response to whatever bullshit just came out of your mouth and you don't have to deal with any upheaval in your life, all is good in your little world. I wish that worked for me. I wish you had done anything other than make me believe you didn't judge me and make me believe you understood and were happy to "help".
It was good for awhile wasn't it? You were happy, I thought, I was happy, I knew, but I was so so wrong wasn't I? You are sick of my need for "bedroom games" (they never were for me I thought you got that?) and my fucked up sense of what's "right" in a relationship. You are content to get on, get off and roll over, quarterly, or cum in my mouth and pass out and why in the fuck is that not good enough for me? Because it isn't.
So again, I'm awake, writing because I am so so lost and don't know what else to do and I can hear you in bed, belching, snoring, you don't even know I'm not there. And I don't know where I am anyway.
