The last couple of months have been nothing but survival. Literally. If you were to pull out Webster and find the definition, I'm spot on. Remaining alive. Sustaining myself. Pulling through. Getting through. Holding on. Making it. Keeping body and soul together. Oh well, maybe not that last part, as I lost my soul exactly at the same time when she left me when I let her go. So, yeah I'm soulless, an empty corpse walking around, drinking whatever is offered to drink and fucking whatever is around to fuck. I know what you will say, and trust me, I know what you are thinking right now. What a piece of shit, soft hearted, worthless motherfucker I am. And you are totally right, I'm not even going to argue with you on that subject. I'm nothing. Nothing without her. I'm totally aware that everything I did since New Years Eve is a calculated path of destruction. The destruction that is impossible to escape. The destruction that I DON'T want to escape. The destruction that is something I devour, something I seek, something that gives me a peace of my fucked up mind. Yes, I'm that deep into that shit. Grief. Is a bitch.