So, I had been having an okay day, more or less.  And, now I don’t know whether to get high or kill myself (or both).  I feel so alone.  Everything suddenly seems like such a f@cking joke.  Who am I trying to kid?  I am so alone, and in so much pain (emotionally, at the moment, but physical pain is usually just around the corner with my fucking health).  I am tired of feeling this.  I’m tired of feeling every bad fucking thing I can’t get out of my God damn head.  Tired doesn’t even some it up.  I want to rake my fucking skin off with my fingernails, and pull my fucking hair out.  I am sobbing and I can’t stop.  I am fed up with everthing.  Everything…

I am so fucked.  I can’t stop crying.  I feel so awful.  I should just buy enough to f@cking OD, like I wanted to last time, and this whole fucking mess would just be over.  I couldn’d do anymore damage, to me, or anyone else.

So alone…

I went out with Mags, today.  We actually had some fun, but as soon as we split ways, all the ugliness came rushing over me.  I feel so ALONE.  So completely alone… 

God, can anyone understand how bad this feels?  How hard this is?  They say that next to nobody makes it.  I’ve heard figures like, less than one percent.  How can that be?  Could people like me really be that doomed?  Maybe, we are.

For now, it feels like smack’s winning, and I’m losing.

If I fuck up again this soon, I’ll backslide like it’s going out of style.  I won’t be able to stop myself. 

I’m better off dead.

It sounds like wind, whistling through the space between

two buildings.  And, it makes the soft percussion of swaying branches, beating against one another,

in rhythms that merge – like our breath.

Like a heartbeat, felt through, fabric, flesh, and skin, when pressed against another.

Forgetting ourselves in heat, and silky, wet, warmth…  holding tightest what we cannot keep.

We worship the impermanent things.

(This stuff is from a poem called "The Other" that I’ve been writing.)