I sit here against my screen, my words flowing like
the blood in my alcohol inflated veins,
My mind muddled, yet flowing, open, and at ease.
I sit here listening to voices, singing. And I miss you all.
I would like to say that it consumes me, that it occupies my every step. I would like to think that it would make me human.
But it is not that.
It is a dull aching in my stomach. That small nagging in my gut that reminds me that while I am not truly alone,
I sure as hell feel it.
My friends,
I would love to raise a glass, smile, and thank you all for everything, sitting here shirtless and tired in my desk chair.
But that would be talking to the two million pixels on my screen, and not you.
My friends,
You help me walk. You help me jump.
You let me fly.
My friends,
I've said this before, and
My friends,
I will say it a thousand more times, because I cannot say it enough, and
My friends,
I thank you.