poeticdesires

neurontin without a script the life and musings of a kinky slut

I Feel (drunk blogging)

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I feel like shit, lost at the end of rope irregularly knotted, worn and frayed, swinging in a hollowing wind.

Have you ever been so sad you sobbed for the whole ride home in your car?

Have you ever ugly cried, the tears and the snot clinging to your face, your throat so sore because your wailing was so long and so loud?

Have you ever not wanted to talk to anyone, not see anyone, desiring only the solace of a drink and the dull oblivion of dumb television?

Have you ever wondered why? Why do they all appear to be so different yet it all ends up the same? Why, when I thought things were going so right, did they end up so wrong?

I know what I want, yet I never seem to get it.

I thought I was Barney. Or maybe Robin. Or maybe Marshall, kind of. How did I end up becoming Ted? And not flashbacks Ted. About to move to Chicago, needs a new start because fuck why does my life suck as compared to those I love around me, how will I ever find love, Ted. Weepy no fan likes him, Ted.

Tonight, whiskey is my friend.

Tonight, I’ll sleep alone, fap alone, and wonder if I will always be alone.

I see Doc on Tuesday. We have a lot to talk about.


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