Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. I don't know what to do with myself today. Just trying to collect courage without drinking, but I'll probably drink tomorrow. Because it's gonna be hard as hell even with booze and likely impossible if I'm sober. Well, that's the plan at least, but I don't know if it could be applied to the reality. I've planned and thought it through for so long now, yet it feels like I'm suffocating cause I'm already so nervous I just can't breathe. This is my chance and I just have to take it. I'll never be ready, but this is as ready as I can be. You wouldn't understand even if I told you what this is about. But I'm guessing you already know.
It's just that I've been dreading it for so long, and I don't know at all how to handle this. I can blame it on my Asperger diagnosis, that socialising has never come easy for me. I can blame it on a lot of things but it wouldn't make this any less hard to face. I suck at this and I never learned how to do it right. This game that I'm supposed to play, this fucking game. Love is not a game and it just shouldn't be. It's real, the only real thing that I truly know is real. That I never doubt, the only emotion that I can truly trust. In myself and others. Love is real, it always is.
I've been in this mess for too long and I just need to sort it out, get the answer that I'm literally dying for. I'm trying to prepare myself for the worst, what I would do with/to myself then. Lost and abandoned, where would I go? Roaming the streets of Visby until I miss the last bus home, keep roaming the streets until my mother picks me up. Or just take the first best bus back home and drown my sorrow in the last drops of alcohol I have left. Or stay, I could just stay and try to get myself together. Say that I'm sorry and try to make the pain go away. Sorry for what, my own stupid feelings? Is it even alright to say that I'm sorry for what I'm feeling? It shouldn't be. But I don't care, cause if it would somehow help with an excuse then that will be what I'll say.
Yeah, I'm writing as if I'm preparing myself to be sucked into hell, but that's not so far from my reality. How I view it. To go through with the hardest thing on earth and it's like jumping off a cliff with a parachute that you don't know if it's gonna hold you, and you can only hope that it will carry you, cause if it won't, you'll fucking die. That's how it feels, that's how hard this is for me. And to think, I only have my mother to hold me if the world falls apart.
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