Up At Night

Demons. Not just for night-time any more.

My heart is not full. It's crushed. I smile all the same.

I made good choices… and they were all bad choices.

Every attempt at happier makes me sadder.

Parties are extra lonely.

More people means more alone.

Feeling as alone as I have for a long time. A long time.

If your problem isn't the biggest problem, then you have no problem. Or so I'm being told.

You can shoot Michael Buble's music into the fucking sun.

I guess I signed on to be a shadow.

I'm not good at choosing.

I’m taking the news that I’ll never be happy rather well. To be fair, I’ve suspected for quite a while.

Feeling alone is worse when you're not alone.

Whatever else happens this week, I saw someone with a really nice ass.

It will never be my turn to have the biggest problem, and so I must pretend to have no problems.

I guess I gave up.

In a heartbeat, I would destroy the me that is for the me that could be.

Shouldn’t have jumped.

All I ever wanted was to feel alive.

The universe owes me nothing. And it’s not feeling generous.