My luck's pushed too far, I'll get wrecked in some bar......

Instead of telling all the things that have happened in the past week or so, I'll just post some old journal entries. Starting with Tuesday the 13th...
 
Got lost again in laughter and acrid smoke. Can remember the ride home with Pearl Jam; poking my head out the top of your car.
"I want to watch the stars."
Later on I spent the night on the couch listening to a skipping cd, waiting for the phone to ring, and slowly drinking myself to sleep. He called, and I went out even though I was already drunk. We drove around the city as if we were the only ones awake. The night was clear, but the sky looked blurry through my eyes.
"It's so bright, I can't even see the stars."
Now I'm home....alone...wishing someone was here to suck the poison from my bloodstream and wash the stale cigarette film from my mouth and clothes.  Someone who I could introduce to the anger, the truth, the sadness, the lonely voice that calls for one more drink or one more hour spent awake. Someone to share whispered words and sly forgiveness. You would find out why your skin pulls tight when I reach for you. Why you shy away from whatever you think I'm offering.
And now I sleep. Because there's nothing left to do. And I'm sick of being awake.
 
 
Friday, July 16:
 
I'll be your weakness, baby, and get to you....
So what have I learned from this? I don't know. I know that I can't stop talking about you when I'm drunk. I've learned that at this moment, I can't sleep because I'm too nauseous. I've learned that all I want is something to make me feel better. I can't think straight. Or see straight. I don't even know if I'm writing coherently. I want everything to stop.
 
Saturday, July 17:
 
I've seen this game before, my love walks right to your door. There aint no hope for me anymore...
Remembering is so much tougher when you drank way too much the night before.
"The liqour store is my home away from home."
The night started early with a pint and food at the Longwood Pub. Jason and Pat added to the atmosphere. We later went back to my place, where I commenced....or, continued rather, drinking. I knew perfectly well that I had to work the next day.
"If you have another cigarette, you're calling in sick tomorrow."
"Is that supposed to stop me?"
I smoke and drank until it made me sick to think. By the end of the night, I was helping Chase puke into our kitchen sink while barely being able to stand on my own. I went to bed after that, wrote, and restlessly tried to sleep through the nagging nausea. I couldn't. I threw up, and Pat came to see if I was ok (he had been in the living room, still drinking). The two of us spent the rest of the night talking, until falling asleep mid-sentence at 4:30 am. I called in sick to work at 5 minutes to 6. Aside from all the fun, the night definitely had it's fair share of lows.
"There are only two times when I can say I'm honestly happy; when I feel like someone loves me, and when I'm drunk. So I guess if you can't have one, you have the other, right?"
"I hope your joking."
Before throwing up, I laid in bed amongst the dizziness, feeling very...alone. There were so many things I needed to say, but I couldn't get them out of my head.
"You all knew this was coming. Anyone who knows me well enough, knows that eventually I'm going to leave."
"Why?"
"Well... I guess because I don't feel like I belong here. No one needs me here. No one wants to keep me around, so why not? I know you would all miss me, but no one's going to feel like the can't get through another day without me. "
"What are you looking for?"
"I don't know. Love, God, myself. Who knows. Maybe I'll end up finding nothing."
And I won't be ashamed of the games we once played, and I won't be coming back 'round here no more." -Weezer
 
Sunday, July 18:
 
I knew I would be left alone again. It wasn't a big surprise. For the rest of the night, everything was in slo-motion. As if I wanted to draw out every mundane task so it would last forever and I would never have to get up and start the next day. The next day in it's alien, unchartered self.
"It's a different kind of sad. An alone sad. Past the point of caring or crying. It's kind of like giving up."
What will it cost to buy you back? To buy your eyes? To buy your smile?
I went out because I couldn't sleep. I walked for a short while, smoked a cigarette, and then something hit me. I felt completely stupid. I threw the pack of smokes in the garbage, talking to myself the whole time.
"What the fuck did you think you were doing? Your best friend's moms both have cancer. Not smoke related, but still. What the hell is wrong with you?"
I was pissed off at myself.  I was pissed off at other people.
"So this is it, then. You feel abandoned, so you get drunk all the time? Nice. Why? Cuz no one cares? Well how about yourself, why don't you care for once? Fuck everyone else."
I wondered what it would be like to be clean. To be honest without being under any influence. I was sick of waiting for someone to say they cared. I was past the point of, "Maybe if I stop, things will get better." That's horseshit. I know that if I don't stop myself, no one else will.
 
So now what?
 
 
 
Staring at the sun, wondering what I've done wrong. After all this time, it still carries on, after everything is on and gone, I'm just waiting for that one day, and all this happened in one day. It's easier not so easy. And it all just fades to grey. Try and close my eyes I find too many times trapped inside my mind, thoughts of running out and away seem to stay, but in a different way, it's easier not so easy. It all just fades away. And all this happened in one day and it all just fades away, I'm trapped inside my haze, waiting for the day.....We shed tears for lives we don't even know....We spent two years too long fighting the wrong things.
 
 
 
 
 
"Dark winter snow's bright, please stay here tonight."
-The Stills