[mrbrightside412]

[mrbrightside412]

[wellbe-glowinginthedark]

[beetrisss]

[mrbrightside412]

Yes

[getlostinneverland-deactivated2]

[mrbrightside412]

[suicide-suicide-suicide-sui-blog]

[mrbrightside412]

Why do I hate myself. This mental war is a burden I want nothing more than not to bare any longer...

[silentmusicnotes-deactivated201]

[gratisangst-deactivated20151127]

[unhealthilyskinnyy]

——

[fashionsociety-blog]

[meowmotherfudger]

[mrbrightside412]

[mrbrightside412]

The melody of a whiskey lullaby

Do you have any idea what I'd give to be just another year older? Probably not. However. who's to say I know for sure? After all. I'm writing a blog post. If I was another year older. I would drink. All day everyday. Till my blood became so thin I'd be considered temporarily anemic. Till the weight of my body became so heavy I'd collapse on my bedroom floor from merely standing. Till a few years pass and in told I have a failing liver or better yet a few weeks and keel over from alcohol poisoning. Why you ask? As cliche as it sounds. I have lost the one woman of my dreams. The only woman I ever loved. She is still everything to me. What I'd give to have her back in my life is unreal. But it will never happen because for a 3rd time I've been forced to sit back and watch her fall in love another man. So next year after the beginning of march. Hopefully by April ill be checked out of hells hotel. And on my way to peace. And as the good ole tune goes. They'll watch me drink my pain away a little at a time. Till I put the bottle to my head and pull the trigger and finally drink away her memory. Because once and for all I am waving my white flag. Throwing in the towel. Giving up for the last time. I will never stop loving her. Till my last alcohol coated breath. till the angel sings a whiskey lullaby. I love her. And as a last request in a years time I want her to read this. So at least one person has a clue. How much they were loved by me.

[mrbrightside412]

[mrbrightside412]

I am ghost...

Has anyone on here felt so low. It's as if you are already dead. I've lived most of my life half alive to begin with. Every time I hear my own name spoken its as though its nothing more than a sad story. A tragedy some would call it. But as we all know. When it comes to stories of real people.. Story becomes legend. Legend becomes myth. And with enough time... That story is lost.. Buried like more times than not I wish I was. I walk through my house everyday almost unnoticed. As though the mere sight of me from people I know and love is but a memory or dream. My heart my soul my mind have a numbness to them. All day all night I dream of what it might be like to smile and actually feel something. To laugh.. And enjoy it for more than a few minutes at a maximum. To breathe and not struggle due to the amount of cigarettes consumed on a daily basis. As depression sinks further and further into my system. I become further and further detached from reality. To a point where it all feels like a dream. Like one day ill wake up and my life as I know it is just a horrible nightmare ill forget about.. But deep down. I know the sad, sorry, regretful life I live is very much a real thing. Is it so wrong to ask for inner peace when most of the world is at war? I'd like to think I'm not selfish. I wish I could appreciate life by myself. I wish I could give all my heart. But it would appear that my ability to love dwindles more and more everyday. My story. Like many others will be forgotten months after I'm gone. Whenever that may be. But until then. I will remain half alive. A lost soul in my own home, job, and life. I may not know too much about a lot of certain things. However there are a few I am one hundred percent assured of. I am half alive. I am human. I.. Am.. Ghost..

[mrbrightside412]