Its unusual for me to go this long without writing anything. Then again, its quite unusual to throw yourself into a dog fight and get your face bitten, have your ex girlfriend tell you that you maybe, possibly got her pregnant that one night and she doesn't know what she's doing about it, and then have a 'medically waivered' relapse (thats what I like to call it so I dont feel utterly stupid... just half stupid). So I might just be acting normal for the circumstances. Who knows. I dont give a shit. I just want my words back without feeling fake. Oh, and to have my wounds stop spilling shit on my pillows. Seriously, stop.
I have nothing to say about any of the above. All of that shit happened and I can't run myself back into a hole again because of any of it. I can hide in this little bottle of pills for the time being, but after tomorrow- after I've ate my prescribed rations of 30 hydrocodone in 6 days, I will have to jump back on the bandwagon and start doing again. Start doing this thing called life that I've been trying really hard this time to do... At least this phase of being was totally justifiable. At least I didn't just step back 4 years in heart development and 5 months of sobriety for no fuckin reason. Loneliness is a bitch. So is getting bit in the god damn face. I think I earned a little hiatus.
I originally wrote 4 more paragraphs to this but I just realized I dont have a direction or a point. Or the motivation to concoct either of those. So I'm gonna go shower and act like this meant something. Fuck, I need to sober up.
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