Nothing good happens at two in the morning.

"Tick tock goes the clock."

It's just... it's hard to believe that she hasn't moved on, when I see her slowly slipping away from me. When that's all I've been seeing for the past few months. When nothing I do gets a reaction that isn't immediately (or almost immediately) followed by a mention of him. When even when I'm lying next to her as she sleeps, the moment she wakes up, the first thing she seems to even want to look at is his face. When I'm a footnote in her world, and all she wanted was an excuse for me to go.

Of course, I could be wrong. But it's just how it looks like to me. I'm not putting any blame. I'm not angry, nor bitter, or anything like that. I was a few months ago, a few weeks ago, a few days ago. I've accepted it.

I'm not expecting anything. Not really.

I'm scrapping the projects. No good will come out of them, it was stupid of me to think of it in the first place.

(I know you need this. I hope you find happiness, even though I know it won't be with me. No, don't argue. Please. Let's be honest. All I do is cause you pain and misery and depression, with little pockets of happiness; you really would be better off away from me.

I'm sorry I'm still doing that to you.)

It's 3:40 AM. I just packed and did my laundry. I don't know why I can't sleep. I'm going to try again, and we'll see what happens.

Salut,
~J

One Step Forward, A Dozen Steps Back

"I've given up, take what's mine; it's just too late to turn back time."

My stomach hurts and there's a metallic, bitter taste in my mouth, at the back of my throat. Most of my projects aren't even done yet.

I'm not even sure why I have them planned. I guess a tiny, stupid part of me is still clinging to the piece in the Ytterbium Chamber. Might as well go all out for one last try, right? Besides, I can still play it off as being just a friend.

Haven't packed, or even done my laundry, either. C'est la vie.

Lost All Hope is a great website. It gives me options and tries to help me. At the least, I've come up with flimsy excuses to go on.

The best one I have right now is, if I see just one picture on Post Secret that I'd like to save, then I have until the next one.

And if there ever is a week...

Well, I have a guy I'm helping out on a FaceBook game. As long as I'm needed, even flimsily, well, might as well stay.

Trying not to step out the door can be pretty hard. Oh well. Only person who'll help you is yourself, and all that.

Salut,
~J

Tired.

"Am I talking to a wall? Am I talking to myself? I'm looking in this mirror, and all I see's a mess."

I'm tired of asking for help.

I'm tired of begging for people to help me, for people to give me aid, because I know that they don't really want to help. Not really. I'm just a nuisance in their lives; I always have been.

I guess... I guess this is my last cry for help. My last try at hoping that there are people who do care about me. People who'll keep checking up on me, making the first attempts at starting conversations.

People who actually give a shit about me still being here, besides a one-off speech about how every life is special, about how I mean so much to them, about how many people I'd hurt...

Yeah. Right.

The same people who never contacted me before, and then doesn't contact me after their little speech is over? The same people who never gave a rat's ass about my well-being, until I forced my problems onto them?

Sure.

I'm making excuses to go on.

After the Winter Break trip. (Because I'm one of the two people responsible for renting the car)
After he's come here and left. (Because I'm fairly sure he's bought the tickets already, so he'd have just wasted money, if I'm not here)
After she has people she can talk to, people she can squeal and fangirl with, people she can gush her love and adoration of him to. (Because she's so close over the edge, and this is among the last things that's keeping her here)

These excuses are all I have left.

And they're running out.

Salut,
~J

Toxic gases on a lonely night

"Breathe it in. Breathe it all in."

I'm pissing away my weekend. I have finals next week, and I'm just lying in bed, getting up to piss, and... that's pretty much it.

I'm on Twitter again, but on a new account. Hopefully no one will find it. If they do, well, I'll just have to make a new one again.

Self-control broke halfway last night. Oh well. Things happen.

In the middle of manipulating events so that I can finally go. Hoping for being able to drink up a month from now. I'm willing to wait as long as it takes, though. She deserves that much.

Tu me manques.

Je t'aime, et je suis désolé.

Salut,
~J

It ends

"Why? Why does it have to?"

Not going to the rest of the 30 Day Challenge. Fuck it. Fuck everything.

And if you're reading this, mother, fuck you.

I fucking hate you.

This is going to be my last post for a long while. I'm so high right now. I miss the bitter taste of the gas on my tongue.

Salut,
~J