Y2 D16

Coughing up blood this morning. Too much of it. Not good. Have to figure out why. Lie to a doctor… again…

Six hours of sleep total since Saturday. Most of that drunken crashes. Ending with the scream of an alarm in my ears.

You don’t understand. You never will. You don’t know what it’s like being inside here. It’s not fun. I can fight or embrace. Still not sure which yet…

My time here is up. And like always I fucked it all up in the end. I always do…

everyone i know goes away, in the end

There it is. You can have it all; the entire empire of dirt. I made you hurt because it’s what I do. I don’t know how to not be selfish, arrogant, manipulative. I am not a good person despite what you think. I wear my mask and say my lines but in the end… in the end…

Why? Why did I have to fuck this one up this time? I was on a roll. And you wonder why I don’t think I deserve to be happy? I know it’s not my fate in life. I can pretend. I will go home tomorrow and I will pretend. I will act like I care but inside I will be screaming.
Always screaming.

I will frame this picture. I will look at it and remember. I will go to Paris again and find this spot and think about what it means. I will wonder why I had to fuck things up like I always do. Or will I? Will I once again just ignore the fact that I should be making other decisions? That I should try to embrace the good? What did I get in the end this time?

Nothing (everything?).

I got what I deserved. I always do.

The text was enough. Enough to know. It will keep me.

When i get home, she will think I am happy. They always think I am happy. And I will go along with it until I fuck it up. Have to. Can’t let them in. Can’t reveal a goddamn thing. Ever. Then she will see and once more it will be the way it is.

And don’t think you get what I am talking about. Or whom I am talking about. Or to whom I am talking. It might be you. It might be someone else. It might be myself.

The shame is I do most of the things everyone thinks I do, wish I did some of the things that are rumored, and let you all believe I do the rest.

Why? Is my ego that hungry? What kind of monster am I on the inside? I could lie to angels and con the devil himself of his soul…

Yet…

I can’t find the light inside any more. Not for real.

Time to go.