This is where I come these days when I feel lost and alone and hopeless, when there's something in my throat that won't budge, even the wine won't wash it away. This is where I come when my hands start sweating and my grip starts slipping and I know I won't last much longer but there is no crash mat because there are no crash mats or chalk bags in life, just sweaty fingers and rocky terrain and that's scary.
This isn't a cure for my shivering scared weak useless mind. Nothing ever is. Not climbing up a wall or writing down the words that come to mind or a playlist made of all the saddest songs I know. Not pining after anyone. Not this glass of wine that I should not be drinking now. That is so close to turning into a bottle instead.
Why do I find it so hard to care?
I didn't answer.
I miss things I never had. Do people do that, or is that why I'm so wounded all the time? Is that why I find it so hard to move forwards, because I can't find myself in the now? I miss things I never had, and I dream them in detail and beat myself up for not letting them happen. Do people do that?
Sucks, anyway. I don't know why I'm sad this time. Even my words seem a bit disjointed. Don't they always. I don't know what I am doing. Can't relate to this person I seem to be. I was a happy child. How did I grow to be an adult like this, and will I ever be any better?
and that's when i hope i could shut up, silence the pessimist, just be your friend
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