Pt.1

    As we have ended up here so many times before, the question still remains, how many times will I have to kill myself before it actually takes?

    I'm a quitter, oh I 'm a quitter, and a junkie, alcoholic, smoker, gambler, and countless other -ics and -ers that are looked down upon.  Take me for what I am, for I am the sleeplessness as a whole, I am the original sin.  I am full of narcissism, full to the brim, thanks mom and dad.

    "When are you going to stop?" she said with that awful face, that face that you just want to smash until it's completely erased, and hopefully erased from your memory only to be replaced with the mess you have left, which is arguably better than that goddamned shit she was pulling before.  "Why do I have to stop, i've killed myself 377 times and it seems like it's the only way I can get a good nights rest.." And there's that face again, shit, I'm so close to snapping, but her, unlike I will not wake up if I decide to destroy her existence, "mmmmm, you're upsetting the natural order of things, you're explo.." and I cut her off by walking out, I know this, I know this all too well, it's this conversation that has made me hate that face of hers, but I believe it to be right.