October 30th
What's the point in writing in this stupid journal when every day is the fucking same?
Wake up with a massive hangover that pierces through my skull and leaves me in a fit of agony.
Get an Advil to numb the pain, both physically and emotionally. I always take an extra few, hoping one of these days I'll work up the courage to take the whole bottle.
Take a restless nap that usually ends with me feeling oddly worse than before. My dreams seem to be haunted with memories of you, so I'll just call them nightmares.
Cry hysterically about missing you again. Then, as gross as it sounds, I won't even get a tissue to wipe my eyes and the snot dripping down; I'm too lazy to walk ten feet into the kitchen.
Punch a few walls, until my fists bleed and all the blood makes me feel nauseous.
Indulge myself in gallons of alcohol to the point where I blackout.
Then, my day begins again and the next day is the same, like the never ending misery cycle of hell.
Uh-oh. It's five pm now; time to mask my sorrow with booze.
I hope you're fucking happy with your new man, because I'm suffering over here.
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How to Love You
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