Drugged

Yes... I seem to be constantly under the influence of one thing or another. I'm writing this still stoned from last night, as I wait to go and pick shrooms. Yesterday was Monday. Tally: 4 tequila shots, a bottle of red wine, 7 codeine, a bong, and share in two epic spliffs. (And I mean epic. Even the hardened stoners were fucked.)
I really am going to die young. But never mind, its not like I've got anything better to do.

Pain

I've run the range, from the bottle to the razorblade, and still this pain is clawing its way through my chest. Still I can't quite breathe and the wrong word-image-association brings tears as all the broken edges rub raw again.

I haven't even written about him. But... I believed. Love.

Stupid bitch.

Too complicated. We had good times. Seven weeks. Seven weeks? Is that all?
And then he went to uni. Distance. And then... this morning. I knew it was on its way. For the past five days I've known. For the past five days I've wanted to cry. And then this morning it was finally over and finally there were tears and blood and pills and strong strong drink. I wish I was strong.

He says he loves me. Loves. Present continuous.

It feels like a long time ago when we were lying there and he said 'I love you.' I said I didn't believe in love.

Then I said I didn't know.

Then I said 'I love you.'
'I love you too.'
I meant it.

Now there's only pain. And now love is the most distant concept. As the evil in my mind says, why the fuck would anyone love me? Of course he doesn't love you. Idiot for thinking that.
They told me not to listen to negative self talk. Problem is, it's usually true.

I'm trying to cope the best I can. It only feels like I'm dying.