JazzDruggie

It gnaws at me. It is gnawing. Over and over, It gnaws. Nibbling slowly away at me. My stomach aching from It, and me being unsure of what to do. Helpless, hopeless, hellish. Hating It every second. Knowing how to stop It, yet being told not to by everyone I know, have known. And his reaction the final nail in my coffin. So It gnaws at me. It is gnawing. Over and over, It gnaws. Gnaws and gnaws and gnaws and gnaws and gnaws and....

Even if you've got a hundred friends, two leaving can make you feel alone. And that's me right now. Alone. Two are leaving: one's going out of the country, which, for him, is a good thing. The other one is just leaving. And blowing me off at the same time. I won't see either of them for months. And although I know they'll be back, it doesn't feel like it. It sucks. BIG TIME. So I'll have to go find the other 98 friends. I liked them better anyway.