"And these are just words that tear you apart."

Tonight is one of those weird nights. One of those nights where I feel like everything that I do is somehow wrong. I do things I shouldn't do (even unknowingly), I think things I shouldn't think, I miss people I shouldn't miss. And I realize how much my entire being is wrapped up in my sexuality.

And the worst part is that I'm fueling it.

I'm purposely remembering things, people, places, nights. I'm playing songs that make me think of them. I can't pull myself out of it.

I just can't do anything right tonight.

And I just want those things back, those people back, those nights back. I want things to be like they used to. I'm happy, but I feel like something's missing. I feel like even though I'm at a point in my life where I can control myself better- I don't use any excuse I can to go be a whore or snort drugs or drink every night. I don't do any of that stuff anymore, actually.

But a part of me misses it. A part of me misses the recklessness. I was doomed to have horrible things happen to me if I kept it up, I know it. You really only can play with fire for so long before you get burned, the cliche is true.

But god dammit, it was so much fun. The stronger the heartache, the more reckless I got. It was like pain didn't exist, just...faces and noises and skin. I can't even describe that point in my life with legitimate words because none of it was legitimate.

It FELT legit, though. I was convinced that it was for real. I was certain that some things, some people would always be there and that everything would be the same way for a long time. It only lasted a few months, though, and I want it all back.

I miss them. I miss the brandy and the beer. I miss the spontaneity and the violence and the numbness and the honesty.

I could write back then. I could feel everything back then. I could segregate and enjoy.

It may have been a false joy, but god damn. It was good.