the teddy bear named clarence

But you go back
and you go back
and you go back.


and this time I'm spending all my time crouched over the toilet bowl pushing up my wendy's and spaghetti.

for what?


a type of numb I can't get anywhere else. a type of nothing-ness. an inbetween of living and not.
a draft, warm, itchy place.

i feel sick but i feel like i'm sitting on a cloud. weird how you could feel so good and so bad at the same time. weird how every word i write sounds to myself like bull shit. it should sound like bull shit to my reader. but who are my readers? i don't think i have any. good thing because i wouldn't want anyone i know reading this. i don't even capitalize. quitting is hard....especially when you are trying to quit something that's worse that the thing you need to quit now. if i hadn't stopped the first thing i wouldn't have started the second...again.



but i go back
and i go back
and i go back


and i'm no good. i'm just no good.

and i don't need to talk in the third person anymore to hide that i'm talking about myself.