Interval.

I think I'm about ready to give up.

All of this guilt is eating away at me. I can feel it. Little pieces of me are just flicking away, like ashes off the end of my cigarette.

My head doesn't stop pounding for more than maybe an hour, if I'm lucky. Usually it's more like ten, fifteen minutes. I have practically no appetite. And I have no real desire to do anything. I just want to find a nice hovel, crawl into it, and forget.

I wish I had some place to go for maybe a week or so. Just disconnect from everyone and everything, forget the universe exists. But alas, I've no where to go.

Led on, yet again..or did I do the leading?


I'll get out of this funk a lot sooner than my counterpart. Though I fear that her recovery time will affect mine. Now I just have to make it through July.

I really don't want her to come. It's not going to change a damn thing, but she's dead-set on it, so I must appease, hopefully it'll give her some closure. But goddamn it's going to be awkward.

Any random, phantom blog-readers out there want to house me for a week? I don't eat much. Not right now, at least. I'll just lay in a corner with my iPod. You won't even know I'm there.

Christ, I wish no one knew I was here, right now.