crash high [ghosty]

Fuck, not again.

I step out the door, red and brown swimming before my eyes as I stumble outside and lift my hand to see the sun blind my vision. Maybe this ain't the worst way to die. But it's cold, so cold it's fucking freezing and I can't even feel the ends of my fingers or the tip of my nose. Fuck me, I need to drink less.

Hah, yea right, like that'll actually happen.

Turns out, fresh air and a walk outside is a good hangover cure; at least I'm living on the rhythm of routine now. Get beaten, get hammered, go for a walk, get beaten, get hammered, go for a walk.

I love cycles.

But not the way my headaches come on waves.

I sit myself down. "Fuck."

I hate myself.

[rave | dars]