neither of us want to be alone

I keep trying to write tonight and it's just not one of my spectacular writing nights. Not that I ever really have those. There are just days I really feel like I should sit down and write because something wonderful will appear on the page before me, but I usually spare myself the trouble by finding something better to do.

Usually, being at work keeps my mind from wandering to things it shouldn't. Being busy is good for me. But today, it really didn't help. I sat at the Intel 3 processor, waiting for it to load my next Sears lesson on harrassment and daydreamt about everything. Derek, his arms, his smell, his touch, our first time . . . smoking, drinking, running, lifting, smoking . . . school, future, money. . . So I but a pack a cigarrettes and a bottle of Dr. Pepper to mix a ridiculous amount of pepperment schnapps with.

But the cigarettes are still wrapped tightly in a blanket of cellophane, and the schnapps is still hiding in the mess of my bedroom somewhere near a suitcase. I crave a substance -- any substance -- to take the edge off life and to let me sleep. Fuck the dreams, I still need sleep. I'll still see all that blood in my mind regardless of the dreams. It was splashed across my own skin too often to forget so easily. So I take the craved substances and I sleep and they help me forget.

But not tonight. As much as my body tells me yes, give me those, I need the pills, I need the smoke, I need the drink, give me . . . give me . . ., I don't want that to rule my life. And I'm beginning to be very curious to what life would be like for a day if I could put aside the cigarrettes, the caffeine, the alcohol, and whatever else I might have at the moment, and just felt life, with the edge still on and all. How would my world look?