i don't fucking know. i just want to go somewhere where no one knows my name. maybe i should start seeking more permanent relief. the pills, the gashes, the company, it all only lasts so long. is there a forever? maybe it's time i found out. it feels like i'm suffocating and they can't see. or worse, possibly, they can, and they just don't want to be bothered with caring. everyone's so fucking...i don't know. this town. i need somewhere new. somewhere north with seasons and definite patterns. somewhere everything actually matters. i know i always used to say that you can't run away from everything, cause everywhere it's all the same, just different names and faces...and that's bullshit. of course it'll change, for awhile. i'll always have to keep running until i choose to seek permanent relief. he knows. andrew knows. a lighthouse. that's what i might do. or something really film like and artsy, the art of suicide, slit wrists in the bathtub, white dress, the whole package. at least i could be a movie sometime in my life.

i want to hope for fiona but i just don't know. i'm just like him. living for people. no, i only want to be, i want someone out there just like me.

i want to say everything but i can't do that anymore. because, once you do, there's no turning back, and i just can't accept anything. i can't move forward. i drink my regrets down like champagne.

my eyes burn.

it's just not a good night for anyone.

tonight i know i'll lie awake, adderall coursing through my veins, replaying everything that's happened lately and turning it into something new. illusioning myself. same old fucking storyline.

how much ambien would it take for me to just sleep forever?