Another promise I won't keep
I promised myself I wouldn't get like this. I promised a lot of people this wouldn't happen again. But hell, it did, and I don't no if it's better or worse than before. No voice this time. Thank god. Just this overwhelming sense of... emptiness. Somewhere inside my soul there's a hole that I need to fill but there's nothing to fill it with. I locked myself into a void and won't even ask for help to get out. Hell, people are calling for me to come out but I'm not. Pile on a few more excuses and I could feel this way forever. But hey, that's what I want right? Another form of masochism. Except this way I fuck myself up psychologically more than physically. I might as well just gash my body a little more. My body has room left to scar, my mind is on overload. Only half of what I sense registers with me now. I feel like I'm floating. It could be worse. Not by much though. It's funny. When I get to emotional I want to feel nothing, but when I get apethetic to life I just want to feel again. I need to make up my fucking mind. To hell with it. Time heals all wounds right? Sleep is the best consumer of time that I know. So therefore sleep heals all wounds. "So close your eyes, and kiss yourself goodbye. Think about those times you spent and what they meant." Had to say that. The more I get out the less I deal with in the morning. I still hate me.