i'm for anything that gets you through the night, be it prayer, tranquilizers, or a bottle of jack daniel's.
-frank sinatra
x
i could use a combination of all three at the moment. swap out the jd though, i'm not a huge fan of his. i noticed that when i smoke a lot, my fingers smell like burnt, stale popcorn. mmmm nicotine. i'm so tired yet so awake. i keep wondering how i've managed to land myself amongst the thickets of grief and still remain there for so long. losing raena, dylan, dave, jordy, etc etc etc. someone new every other day. i can't seem to escape this shit. i don't seek to escape death, just the grief that seems to be continually at its bosom. i welcome my own death much too often for other peoples' liking, if they were to know, that is. sometimes i wish i were religious. it'd give me something to believe in, but i'm far too critical and lazy for such things. self destruction is my therapy, repression even. sometimes i want to be happy, but i think that'd make me more boring than usual. mostly i just want a cuddle and a decent hug. is that too much to ask for?
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