12.20.24 Cold, dirty hands

It isn't the gratest feeling: wanting but not having the strenghth to act on it. There always seems to be something I'm yearning for, something that won't let me die so suddenly, but it's never close enough for me to touch.

I've drank nothing but Sprite and alcohol for about a week and a half, occasionally ingesting oil paint from under my fingernails. I'm starting to wonder when I will rise from the ashes again, if I even can when I'm not really trying. 

Maybe I need to see my friends more often.