I didn't write this.

The glass is always half empty
Why?
No one here to fill it for me
Too bad, I think.
That's a good thing you say.
Fill it up.
Another one.
One more
Until you don't see
Or see to much
The numbness
Who'd have known.
31 years old
The joys of alcohol
The sadness of the empty glass
Haunting me.
So unfair, I think
So, so unfair.
Is it you calling my name.
I hear something familiar
We don't know what to say.
But they tell us what to think
Guess my paranoia is taking over me.
All I wanted was to hear that voice
That laugh again
Someone will get mad at this
Would you?
I'd apologize
If I knew what to apologize for.
I probably wouldn't if I knew.
The question is moot after we know the answer.
Is there any point to this
All of this.
I keep trying
And there's only comfort in the glass
The pills
The drugs
To balance this world
I see downwards
My doctor
She says
So pretty, so sweet
I have something called "negative automatic frameworks" in my brain
I know, it sounds gibberish
But, I can explain.
Every thought I have
Every step that I take
Forward
Backwards
I always see the negative
The worse
The bad
Outcome
There's nothing else
That's what I do.
I don't crash very often anymore
But then
There's you.
And you
Crush me.
I let you crush me.
And I don't care
Cause I love it.
It's the only thing
I have left
That and the empty glass
It's full now.
It stays like that for a time
I'd ask for an editor
But this is shit
Everything I do
Write
Think
Is shit.
What do you think?
Who would love a wreck like me.
That's what he asked.
I repeat it.
The things that keep me awake at night
Would you still love me.
I don't think you would
You didn't.
You left.
You all left.
There's me
and me
And that's nothing.
Not enough.
My logic doesn't follow any rules
I can hardly see as I type this
I'd pop another pill, if it would kill me
But it only makes me numb
Number
13.
Randomly chosen.
Don't read into it.
I have to take a shit now.
Guess I'll finish like this.
Suppose there's typos and errors somewhere
Since, I'm high
And drunk
On myself
And what's on myself.
I should do something about it
But I love it
Oh, how I love it.
It makes me forget
All I've ever been through.
It's not you.
Don't get cocky.
My life is more than a pussy that decided to leave.
It's something else.
The meaningless of it all.
That's what gets me.
The optimists
I hate them all.
There's nothing to be happy about.
We're all fucked.
Waiting to be fucked.
In one way or another.
Fuck it.
So it goes, he says.


So
It
Goes.