I had a little crash yesterday. It was kind of a shit day at work, it's more complex than I'd care to go into in text or words in general. And then when I got out of work, my friends who were supposed to come rescue me bailed, which meant having my dad drive me home, which wasn't so terrible really because he's kinda talking to me like I'm a human being again finally. So I get home and take a bath and try to get myself calmed (not something I'm adept at), and who calls me but said friends who bailed on me earlier. So they pick me up and now I'm feeling a little less like shit, and we head to one of their's housething where we laugh and read a handbook for surviving zombie attacks and move furniture and drink Guinness and Stella Artois and some other stuff. And they smoke up like they always do, and what the hell, so do I. I've never done that before, and honestly I don't think I will again. It didn't do anything for me, good or bad, it just kinda stung my lungs a bit & made me hack up some sick stuff. Well, we keep drinking and eventually I feel asthough I'm going to be sick, which is pathetic but really very foreseeable since I hadn't eaten anything for more than a day. So as soon as things stop spinning and being terrible I pass out somewhere quiet, and wake up about three hours later, for no discernable reason feeling more depressed than I think I ever have before. And then I started bawling like the little bitch I am, because there isn't much else to do when you're wasted and sick and hate every second of your life and there's no one who'll tell you that things will be fine that you believe and no one will even hold you a little.
God, I'm such a child. Fuck this.
God, I'm such a child. Fuck this.