lighter out of fuel.

What is this i'm doing? If i could only put a word to it. Stupid. Reckless. Pointless. Nothing seems to fit exactly. The consequences, of course, are miserable. And misery itself. Although the latter was already (t)here to begin with. I haven't the strentgh to convince myself i can alter the balance. I feel no control. Distinctly aware, however, that something must be done. Soon. The pain i bring on myself is worse than the one brought upon me. It may just be my weary fight against the numbness. To feel bad is better than nothing at all. I can't truly believe that. Maybe the familiarity of guilt is easier to deal with than that other breaking. Nothing about this is easy.
I don't know what i'm saying. I don't know what i'm doing. All i know, with aching certainty, is that it is doing me no good. It is destroying me. Physically yes. But it is my heart and mind that stretch thin. I can't keep picking up my own pieces. I can't keep making the same mess. Especially to escape a new one. I am not strong. I write in circles. I think in circles. I need this to get easier. I need to be more than this.

I need to not sound so profoundly unoriginal.

- Never think, Robert Pattinson