March 25, 2012

January 16th, 2012

Wow. I created this thing yesterday, and already I’ve got seven followers? I’m so popular. Can’t believe people actually want to listen to me ramble about this shit. At least now I don’t feel like I’m talking to myself.

Jim used to do that. All the time. He’d pace back and forth in the living room, muttering to himself, with his brows pulled down over his eyes, glaring at the ground. Used to drive me fucking insane, that muttering. Now all I can think about is how much I miss it. What I wouldn’t give to hear it just once more. To see him pacing furiously in front of that ridiculous white couch that we had to get cleaned nearly every week because of all the blood stains we got on it. Along with… other stains.

It’s so odd without him. So quiet. No “get your arse up, tiger, I’ve got a job for you.” Tiger. He always called me that. I guess it’s supposed to be a reference to my record for hunting tigers in India? Or some reference to my personality? I really don’t know, or particularly care. Just one of his many nicknames for me. Sugar, honey, sweetheart, sparrow, tiger, Seb, Sebby, sexy… I swear, if anyone calls me any of those again, I’ll smash their heads in. Not that I’m going to get close enough to anyone for them to call me any of that.

I miss him so much. It’s only been a day and I already feel like I can’t deal with this any more. I can’t stand it. I wish I could rip my heart out of my chest just so I don’t have to live with this anymore.

Anyone reading this blog ever lost someone? What’s the best way to fill the void? Drugs? Alcohol? I’ve heard some people cut themselves… always have been a masochist. Does that help? People can send in asks, can’t they? Send in some suggestions. Tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do to stop myself from going insane.

-Sebastian Moran