Tuesday, 13 September 2016
The Crutch i use to cut Myself.
Death is such an unspeakable insult, why can't I be forever. Did you leave the bin out? Wrong night... .. . Still hell to pay, on my phone in a restaurant telling the person on the other end how could it be possible to feel this way? She wanted more then I was willing to give in such a public place, and i just couldn't say about the feelings that wont go away. I couldn't hear too well but I made the most of what I could, answering questions that I could never really tell the truth. The room is in charge, and the light when fully charged turns blue. But then what else can you do? Got to work a way round this, more then a crutch, because there is nothing worse then the feeling when it isn't her that could of been, but wasn't, just passed. I wish I was a better sleeper. I shouldn't take these tablets for a crutch, but then again sleep means so much. Like a lay in, I'm not sleeping. More dancing, no peeking.