| Current mood: |  depressed |
| Current music: | the sounds of the water dripping into the tub |
fuck
Lately I've been going into the bathroom a lot more, curling up in the corner, wanting to be left alone. Mainly when Natalie goes out because I don't want her to see what I'm going through. The hell, the depression. Something I rarely want to talk about, something I pretty much never talk about. People do drugs to make them feel better, yet it makes things worse. A hundred times worse, a trillion times worse. Withdrawal is a tricky thing and something I don't want Natalie to see me go through, though I'm sure I'm not as lucky as I think of myself to be and I'm sure eventually she'll come back into the flat before I'm done spazzing out, I'm not even sure if that's the right fucking word for it. I don't really know a hell of a lot anymore, but I'm dying to figure things out once and for all.
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