Worst Weekend Ever
April, as I might have mentioned, is a very bad month. Historically speaking of course.
Somehow I managed to survive this weekend, although I'm not sure how. Today was the aniversary of an old friends suicide and the begining of the end of an era that propelled me to where I stand today. Another one of those life altering events that are sprung upon us with no warning and no way to prepare for. Those that are strong shepherd the weak to safety and offer reasurances that sometimes they don't even beleive, if only to keep everyone else putting one foot in front of the other, just like they are. More of a way to assure that when they do finally lift there eyes from the ground again, that everyone will still be shuffling along with them and that they won't be standing utterly alone.
Today I stopped looking at my feet and found that I have been alone for longer than I suspected.
On top of all this?
Less then 24 hours ago, the one that is short somehow managed to walk in to my room and find me curled stark ass naked around the 'x' (details are unimportant at this point). Not only did I come out of this event none the worse for wear, I fucked them both today. And I did all this by simply streching the truth and not bothering to try and spin some eleaborate lie that would have been too much work to uphold. I'm sitting here shaking my head in disbelief that either of these two did not Loraine Bobbet my ass after what transpired. This would almost have been a good weekend if you remove the events of Friday & saturday, plus the whole 'suicide anniversary' thing.
I almost want to say that I may possibly be invincible, but my scraped and bloodied knuckles along with the allergy infected sinuses I am sporting provide enough detail to the contrary.
Maybe, dearest of diaries, I'm just unstoppable?
On a completely unrelated side note; I just realized I haven't been high in 48 hours.
I think I'm going to try for 72.
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