yes, i'm trying.

Carol died today, this morning to be exact. For the past few days she's been holding on, only through drugs and ionised blood. We will never see her again. I was never nice too her, i never treated her too fabulously. To be honest, i never liked her. She was iritating. She treated me like a was 10. She brushed my hair because it was knotty, even though it's just curly. I'm never going to recieve another one of her crappy Christmas presents that are completely pointless. Like that weird as fuck glass rooster paper weight.
I never liked her too much, but she was nice. She was a tiny little woman who knew little next to nothing. and she's dead.

hold your tongue, boy. hold onto your breath.

writing's lost all its edge for me. proof is that i rewrote that first sentence three times before finding it 'passable'. words don't flow; they sound stupid. i miss being stoned and letting the sentences of unimportance flow out and away.
i miss. i miss. i miss.
sitting for hours in the dark pouring the day out of my mind, giving meaning to commas and capitals. what a dream it was, seeing as always i could very well convince myself that none of it happened, that it was all a dream.
that is all. that is all. nothing left at all.

i've seen her in a smokey room, the smell of wine and cheep perfume.

i'm trying to tell myself to shut up, and to shut it out. i want myself to know that there's nothing i can do to change it, that i all can do is ignore the things i know. in a way i want to force the words out of my mouth, and to put a control on my life. just for once, maybe. words hardly make it in the air without my body shaking, letting it ink onto microchipped paper is pathetic.
fuck this, everything is ruined.