I don’t even know why I’m fighting it, though. Grayson isn’t going to be back until late tonight because of some study group or other¸ Derek is busy and I’m here alone, single. I can drink that bottle of Jack in my backpack if I want to. I rub at my eyes again, battling the tears. Feeling so weak, so powerless is messing me up good. All I want now is not even numbing myself at this point, but it’s being able to get through tonight without letting these fucking emotions ruin me. But I know drinking won’t solve problems, so I’m sitting on my unmade bed, my hand rubbing at my eyes whenever fresh tears threaten to fall while my other hand is bringing a cigarette to my mouth. At this point, I don’t feel the smoke burning in my lungs. I don’t smell it or anything. There’s a whole lot of nothing around me while everything is happening inside of me, both in my heart and in my head. I was there for Skye today, and she just pushed me away.
