I drank myself into the ground these past few days. This morning I puked pure liquid and realized I hadn’t eaten in over twenty four hours. I’ve never felt worse. I said I wanted to die. Minutes later I found out that someone I love is dying.

Now all I want to do is go home, so I can cry. I don’t cry easily at college. There is always someone around who doesn’t know me well enough yet. There are no small, familar spaces for me to curl up in. This not crying for months at a time has been killing me, so I keep going home. I wait until the middle of the night, tip-toe out to the porch, and cry.

So I am going to drive home now, after midnight. I’ll walk across campus and find my car, stop at a gas station, fill my tank and buy some cigarettes. I feel like smoking again. Then I’ll drive back to where things make sense and sleep in my bed and cry. I will drive even more tomorrow and finally get all the sad chores in my life out of the way. In the afternoon, I’ll drive back to this dry place. Eat. Sleep. Study. Clean. Put my things in boxes. Drink. Say goodbye. And drive back home.

There’s so much to do. I won’t waste anymore of my time waiting to cry.