Its late, its always late and I’m up watching films, letting my thought’s run away with themselves as per usual…
I’m drinking my rather fucking lukewarm tea (seems to be the only way I drink it these days) typing this, I don’t really know where I’m heading with this one so bare with me while I gather my own thoughts.
I’m smoking my ‘cigg’ contemplating dragging myself to bed to go to sleep, my predicament? Going to bed knowing I’m probably still not going to fall asleep any time soon. Reasons why? The otherhalf is yet again still not home and I’m lonely. I’m tired of going to bed alone or waiting up til stupid o’clock to wait for him and risk missing my alarms to get up and get on with the day due to constant sleep deprivation.
At least I have this journal, even if I never receive a single comment being able to get things out helps so much, especially as it seems the only people I can talk to are people that are not mine to vent personal problems to for fear of being too emotionally close to someone else, even if sometimes I don’t have much choice but to talk to other people when they see the details of my life from outside the box and ask me why? Why do I put up with being let down? Why do I put up with such sporadic reliability? Why do I put up with someone with so much emotional detachment? What’s even worse is when I can only answer with “I don’t know because I love the stupid twat” and shrug my shoulders I can’t help but wonder the same thing.
Nevermind I suppose…. Things will get better one day?