I've no idea why I write so much
As I have never had a way with words.

And I don't know why I fight so much
When I am genuinely apathetic toward the outcome of most arguments.

I think I get bored.

Maybe I just--

I like to make things dificult.
I like the combination of puzzle and pain.
It gives me something to fill my little brain.
Purpose.
A reason to be awake.

It's like a game.
But not the kind that children play.

More like a contest.
Who can destroy themselves the fastest?
Except the only prize is self denial and
If  you are lucky--
A bit of Jack to wash away the lonliness.  

A miserable existence, I know.
I live it,
Because I still have this ridiculous hope

That the empty chair in the kitchen will
Save me from myself.

I'm a senseless,
Rambling,
Fool.