Burn it. Burn it All to the Ground.

This feeling my pass. It may not. I don’t care.

Fuck eating. Fuck staying clean. I’m ready to fucking torch everything and run myself into nothingness.

I’m starving myself and, while not directly going out and getting drugs, seem to be doing a damn fine job of setting myself up to relapse.

I’m so fucking tired. I’ve got one thing left I want to do. I think I’ve found the person to do it with. We’ll see. I texted her something earlier that, depending on her response, could trigger a final countdown of sorts. I think we’re on the same sheet of music on this. She’s typically slow to respond to my texts but, when she eventually responds, its usually in a manner that facilitates my self-destructive tendencies.

And this one is the granddaddy of them all. If we go through with what we’re planning, I’ll have to drop off the grid. If it goes that way, I’ll be sure to say ‘goodbye’.

Or, I’ll wake up tomorrow, my world will be ‘right’ and I won’t hear from her ever again.

But, probably not.

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