Drawing a Blank

She's gone.

She left and here I am, shouting randomly into the darkness, hoping in vain someone might give a shit.

Writing has always been my outlet. Always been as good as sex, or alcohol, but I can't get anything but this bullshit out.

MSNBC is just whiny noise in the background. I've filled my apartment with smoke, even though I have no business smoking. Yesterday I had a cough and a fever, again. I don't care. I need a fucking cigarette.

My life has always been falling apart. I've been okay with that. Probably even caused it.

With kids, its different. When you finally start getting your act together, and then everything blows up in your face, and the only people you've ever really been attached too, ever really loved are leaving, you might turn into a whiny bitch too.

I can't find the words to express whatever it is that is driving me to smoke and blog.

Its futile.

She's gone.