I wouldn't call this a life. In fact what I'm doing is distracting myself from the fact mine fell apart. I distract from the pain that burns of how much I still love you. Nothing I do carries importance anymore. Every party, every drink, every thrill a desperate attempt to forget, an attempt to escape. But I have no passion, no feeling, no heart behind what I do, just me trying to cloud my thoughts. I walk the line always on the edge of everything so I can get my next adrenalin rush. Regularly pushing my body to its limit because the physical pain feels preferable. I can only side step life for so long though...eventually I run out of distractions and then it all comes creeping back into my mind and that's when I'm afraid the most.
I still miss you