fucked it. Everything is shit
My eyes are alone and I feel weary. I am alone and my eyes feel weary. It’s past four, I lost my phone over an hour ago but it was 3.46 the last time I checked it so I know that it’s past four at least. It’s not really night anymore, dusk, the sort of time when the sky’s flooded with orange because the sun’s trapped behind the dark, illuminating it with a sort of not quite mist that still makes it hard for me to see. Out of anger, at you, i threw the only working, not belonging to me, but working all the same lighter I had, into a wall my fist has encountered too many times to count. So I’m standing in a sort of alcove at the train station, struggling to spark up with the off licence next to the platform’s finest safety matches, and failing.They didn’t sell lighters, and I didn’t really care to smile and thank the two girls that offered me one so I didn’t. My hands are blue from the cold and my heart and head, i’d imagine, are a sort of dim grey from you and the fast fading sparks of other influences. I am so mad, not just mad in the sense of being so furiously angry with you and so furiously disappointed with myself, but mad like properly insane mad. I feel psychotic; it is so painful when synthetic feelings fade into a mass of anxious thoughts and shudders and dis-connectivity. What am I doing. I’m deafing out from the people around me waiting for the first or last train, i’m not really sure which it is now but i’m shaking and i don’t know whether out of fear or the harshness of the cold on my bare legs but I can barely stand up any longer. If you were here, or if you were here how you used to be, you’d take all of my weight in your arms and stand up for me so I didn’t have to. Or maybe nostalgia is a dirty liar and you wouldn’t do that at all. The people who you love most in this world will always let you down and make you weak, and that is not spoken in the voice of bitterness and come down thoughts, but the truth. You weren’t well, and now i’m not well enough to realise that staying with you would never have kept me healthy either. You make my stomach itch with disgust and hatred but i crave it so badly. If i’d always had you maybe I wouldn’t ever have needed all the rest of the distractions, but then again all i remember of us, was us distracting ourselves together. And all i’m doing now is distracting myself from not having you to do it with me. I am alone and strange and twisted and I can’t do this on my own.
5.46, they were waiting for the the first train.
everything is so easy for you