My Night

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The night didn't end for me, it never fucking ended. Now I want the night to end. I hate the fucking night. It's full of ghosts and dreams, whispers and taunts, and when I wake up it's to an empty bed and feelings so acute that being awake is like a permanent scream.

My ass-fucked by life, sadly, confusedly sifting through memories of times when I didn't give a shit, because now I did, and it hurt pretty bad.

I realized the other day that I spent thirty years waiting for life to start, without ever fucking realizing it had.

That kind of sucked.
Rest of my life begins tomorrow.

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