The shadows will break your heart...
Each day bleeds into the next, but I find myself counting them. Trying to keep track. Like it matters. Like it's going to change a fucking thing. But it's something to do. A way to keep myself grounded, when I feel a hell of a lot like I'm drowning. I've become one big goddamn melodramatic cliche, but I'm beyond caring.
I keep it together. For Tom. For the girls. For Dean. I keep it together, because I can't go back to being that stupid, fucked up kid I used to be. I keep it together, but sometimes, I feel myself slipping more than others.
It's been three weeks. Twenty-two days, and sometimes I feel okay. Sometimes I smile and laugh and there are verifiable chunks of time where I can think about something other than how much I miss him. Other times, it's pretty fuckin' hard to get outta bed.
Today, I'm somewhere in between.
I'm curled up on the couch now, maybe a little stoned from the joint I smoked earlier, and on the screen, The Tenant is playing with the volume turned down low, but I'm not really paying attention. The jukebox is on, and there's a girl singing, her voice haunting and fragile, and I'm not sure if I've heard it before, but I like it. But neither of those things have my full attention. Instead, I'm staring at the plastic baggy in my hand. At the two tabs of acid and three hits of ecstasy.
I've had them for a few weeks, a gift from Chris Miles Pharmaceuticals, but I haven't been able to bring myself to do them. Not too long ago, I wouldn't have thought twice, but things are different. I've got a family. Fuckin' responsibilities, and I've shirked them enough over the last few weeks as it is. But the thought of it... just letting go for a few hours, sounds almost too good.
Not giving a fuck'd feel really fucking awesome, right now, and it pisses me off that things can't be that simple.
But then again, nothin' was ever simple. I just really liked pretendin' that it was.
[[Find him in the rec room, in the late evening. He probably won't do the drugs, and he's likely to just give them away, but an alternative distraction would be really awesome, right now. Anything, seriously. ST/LT, new and old all welcome. No limit.]]
I keep it together. For Tom. For the girls. For Dean. I keep it together, because I can't go back to being that stupid, fucked up kid I used to be. I keep it together, but sometimes, I feel myself slipping more than others.
It's been three weeks. Twenty-two days, and sometimes I feel okay. Sometimes I smile and laugh and there are verifiable chunks of time where I can think about something other than how much I miss him. Other times, it's pretty fuckin' hard to get outta bed.
Today, I'm somewhere in between.
I'm curled up on the couch now, maybe a little stoned from the joint I smoked earlier, and on the screen, The Tenant is playing with the volume turned down low, but I'm not really paying attention. The jukebox is on, and there's a girl singing, her voice haunting and fragile, and I'm not sure if I've heard it before, but I like it. But neither of those things have my full attention. Instead, I'm staring at the plastic baggy in my hand. At the two tabs of acid and three hits of ecstasy.
I've had them for a few weeks, a gift from Chris Miles Pharmaceuticals, but I haven't been able to bring myself to do them. Not too long ago, I wouldn't have thought twice, but things are different. I've got a family. Fuckin' responsibilities, and I've shirked them enough over the last few weeks as it is. But the thought of it... just letting go for a few hours, sounds almost too good.
Not giving a fuck'd feel really fucking awesome, right now, and it pisses me off that things can't be that simple.
But then again, nothin' was ever simple. I just really liked pretendin' that it was.
[[Find him in the rec room, in the late evening. He probably won't do the drugs, and he's likely to just give them away, but an alternative distraction would be really awesome, right now. Anything, seriously. ST/LT, new and old all welcome. No limit.]]