The more time I spend alone with my thoughts the more I begin to question myself. Why am I so self-destructive? What’s with all this self loathing? I don’t feel suicidal.
Why do I smoke? Habit
Why drink? To socialise, to have fun (I’m such a slut when I’m drunk.) But then why drink alone? What does alcohol do to me? It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, isn’t that what love is supposed to do? Is drinking a substitute for love?
Why use drugs? Each one that I use is for a different reason.
Why rebel? Why the fuck not?
“It keeps growing and I can feel it breathe. I have been trying to behave myself.”
I
Don’t
Feel
Anything
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