Boring. Deeply bored. Caught between my own idleness and the futility of wasted lives. Far away from the city. Not enough sun. Just heat. Hot, hot, hot, hot. I want an empty afternoon, with just myself to look at, long hours under the sun, dazed in a comfortable bed made of booze and drugs. Here I am just trapped, jumpy, not resting, just, a thorn on his side. I don´t care if I´m an addict or a tramp, a rebel or a child. I just thought that by running away from the city I was going to arrive to this idyllic scenario, dark beaches, cold beer, easygoingness. Not a hint of that. Just admonition and reproach. Oh please, please, please, let me get what I want this time.
I was supposed to come here to get back my will to live. Stupid, the spark that gets you to wake up everyday lies within me and I´ve obviously lost it too long ago with no hope of getting it back.
So, if I can´t find love, if I can´t be loved, what it is the use of these long hours hooked to the needle? What is the use of those endless conversations with this or that physician? What is the point of anything?
Just die, die, die. Oh, please, love me or just let me get what I want this time.