My green apple infused Schmirnoff vodka intoxication is revealing to say the least. I've gotten half way, and all I've found is self-loathing. Not that weak, oh-nobody-likes-me-i'm-gonna-eat-some-worms kinda loathing either. I'm talking about slaughtering bouts of hopelessness. Is there really a cure for that. I doubt that alcohol is the answer, but it definitely is the cheapest medicine.

I'm left with not much but a few melting ice cubes and dry eyes after pushing back tears for hours. Seriously, I thought I was doing fine. One glimpse, that's all it fucking took. One fucking glimpse, and I was right back in September, wondering how it all went so fucking wrong.

Tonight, though, I need/needed a friend. I went through my phone book. Seriously guys, I felt that I couldn't relay this shit to anyone in there. What the fuck does that say? Trust. I cannot trust people anymore. So you know what I'll do? I'ma get fucking drunk and sit in silence. At the very least no-one will see my sniveling, pathetic tears.