Me

Weekdays

Emotionless I walk to my car, wait for the heat to kick in as I attempt to choose the music for the drive, something that can cheer me up. La Dispute is usually the band I go with sometimes Damian Rice, or The Spill Canvas, my top three. All of which are depressing. The music that feeds her desire rather than my own.

I drive as a light another cigarette, mentally preparing for the day ahead. Twenty six minutes later I arrive at the college. My backpack weighs heavily on my shoulders, making me feel as if I am sinking lower into the earth. Wishing it was heavy enough to make me sink down and disappear into the ground I stand on. Even if I had enough weight to merrily sink her from me. Drown her six feet under where she belongs, not me, just her. It doesn't happen.

I eventually make the trek from my dented car to the doors of the college. As I walk in and move through the halls making my way to get my second caffeine fix, I see faces, people consume every corner of this building. I know I am the one with an empty, lifeless expression glued to my face, perhaps her face. Although my mind and eyes begin to witness and to ponder the life of others. I hear laughter, see people together, faces masked with smiles, do they fake it too? Am I the only one with a mask? Does she posses others the way she has me? Unanswered questions that my mind only asks.

I wish that the idea of this was true, although I know what genuine looks like, I hate these people, the chatter is filling the emptiness around me. The sound is a cause for me craving to be dead, immune, to all of it. The happiness, the whole atmosphere of what I bear witness to at this moment, sickens me inside. For I can witness life, but I cannot grasp it, neither can she, the concept that is to feel alive. I get my coffee.

I still don't feel anything. Although I go to all of my classes. On my breaks, I drink doubles of vodka at the school bar. My friends from my program are around, I really can't see or hear them though.

Together we are stuck inside of this body, and I feel myself break a little more with each step I take, every breath I'm waiting for it to be my last. I hate myself, and everything surrounding me. School is finished, I make it home, only to pick my poison for tonight. A bottle of wine, or rum. Sometimes I end up consuming both until we can sleep.

The poison tonight was red wine, I drink, and drink more, since I am drinking for the both of us. I do school work, it's a battle against myself to be able to get through these evenings. Once I am done my school work, I'm still not done with this day, now I work out. She said so.

100 push-ups
150 crunches
100 side crunches
100 scissor kicks
100 ab leg cross overs
100 push-ups again
75 side bends with a kettle bell on each side.

Then I write.
I write.