Oh velocity girl
What makes you go so fast
Is it the speed you're taking
Since you gave up the drinking

And you live for words, because at this moment in time, there's nothing else to live for. You sit, in this box, this box with clothes strewn all over the floor, the carpet smelling of an obnoxious combination of cigarettes and febreeze. The windows are open, a chill air seeps through, carrying with it the noises of the people outside, of joy and calm and of letting go to an extent where you never really come back.

But you're not downstairs, you are not them. You used to be, but you are not anymore. You are the girl dressed in dark colors, reclined on her bed, surrounded by absolutely nothing. If there were auras and halos and all that other pretty stuff that stands apart from indifference you would have a little rain cloud above you, all the time, at that point where you know its going to rain but cant see any physical proof of it. Its in the air they say, when it rains at home its warm rain, a rain that used to shut down school and prompt drunken dances. The rain here makes you fear for your hair and keeps you from smoking because you're cigarette always gets wet.

I go home in less than a week. I would say this semesters flown by, but I wouldnt know. Ive been sober for a very short amount of it, the rest is just a blur of heartbreak and strain.

Strain. Thats the word, im strained.

6 days more.

Im counting down to a goal that doesnt serve as resolution. If anything, its just going to perpetuate the blisters.

There is something severely wrong in this whole scenario.