Things will be tough when - if - we break up and I'm not really sure what I'm hoping to achieve but something's got to give, something that's not me. I went out without him for the first time in maybe years in my own hometown. The hometown that is not his, never was and never will be. The hometown that I am so fucking lost in, the place where he soars. He soars everywhere. God, what did I do to deserve that man? Who am I to ruin it? I sat in his house in front of the unlit fire for hours on end in a dead silence, listening to nothing as it got louder and louder and I smoked cigarette after cigarette that I simply cannot afford. And yet I smoke them anyway. I try my best to get my best friends to meet me in aforementioned home town. These girls, the ones I've grown up with, the ones that I love and have loved for years on end and they agree. And as ever, I am let down. I am in an incredible funk. And oh yeah, what's new? That's all that's asked. I had spent hours getting myself ready and trying to look some form of presentable and they let me down yet again. Again and again. Everybody has good intentions you know, but nobody's figured the right way to go about living. No, not yet. I wonder if we figure it out after we're dead. I sat on that sofa with those cigarettes, my legs crossed and wrapped up in each other in some unfathomable pattern that happens each and every time, but I can never tell or describe exactly what it is. I guess that's the force of habit. I told myself to not cry and to not ruin my make up but I honestly don't know if I tried or not. Stupid fucking Ani Difranco on the radio - yeah, I loved you, so what? I somehow fall in the door of some pub that I've stumbled into more times than anybody'd care to pass a guess at and still. Still still still it cannot feel like home or like a minimal amount of familiarity or comfort. I pretend to be drunk on two drinks and I pretend that my lift is waiting outside and I wander out into the rain, heels click click clicking and my paths form circles that haven't been travelled in years, decades even. I come back home to two dogs and a brother and a mother whose in bed and I lie on my bedroom floor for what feels like forever, imitating my own reflection. You ugly fuck. Feeling lost. Lonely. I don't even know anymore.