Jeez..

Had a gun to my head for several hours this morning, safety off, squeezing the trigger, the hammer pulling back, then letting off. Another night hardly any sleep.
Gotta move out of this shit dump in 19 days, no plan where to go next, fully overwhelmed, so much shit to move out, and so laying here in bed typing instead. Just at my breaking point.
Aimless, no plans.
I turned to the girl had over the other night and saw for the first time in the morning light a nasty cold sore planted firmly to the corner of her lip.
Great, may have an outbreak in a couple days as a souvenir for that awful evening, choosing her as a sure thing over biding my time for the girl I actually love.
These are my fuck-ups, but there’s just too many of them piled up.
I have the money rubber-banded in stacks of $5k, and another $6k in hundreds wadded in a black sock, all half-hazardly stuffed in a shoe-box, a note taped to the top with instructions to deliver it to her. A note inside, simple, direct, “_________, I love you. I’m sorry”.
I fantasize leaving it at her door often.
Today the fantasy’s stronger than ever.
Things didn’t used to be like this.
I used to fear having the gun in the house, an irrational concern would get up and sleep walk to it in the middle of the night, follow suit with my father and cousin’s example. Now I sleep with it.
Life is so fucked, my hope draining for any turn around in the future.
So I smoke, drink coffee, lurk and write here, pretend everything’s fine around my roommate or when the occasional friend contacts me, but things are not fine. Things are scary, but in another way not.
Just a speck of dust floating along watching it all unravel,
a speck of dust perhaps with a cold sore in a couple days.