I don't know what to write. I don't know how to feel. I am this emotionless, detached, lifeless asshole. Highs and lows, highs and lows, highs and lows. That's what my therapist says. But he also says I'm hot, so I tell him that I love him. It's all highs and lows. Highs from the alcohol, the drugs, the men. Lows from everything else. It's a cycle, really. Who else could call me after they had a few rounds to ask if I'm wearing any panties?
YOU ARE READING
Late Night Thoughts
PoetryThese are the things that I happen to be thinking about before I go to sleep.
