There is no “you”. It’s just me

She drinks wine like it's water

Then wonders why she's sad

Wonders about what's missing

And why she's going mad

She takes her pills each morning

And knows that it's not right

Knowing what she's missing

Yet won't put up the fight

Until one morning

She realized it was time

It may be dark

It may be nothing

But nothing is better than this

Then I came to this conclusion.

I don't know what to do anymore. Everyday is just passing by like the plague. I can't feel anything until I'm drinking, and the happiness from that passes far too soon. I want nothing. It's making less sense everyday. Every goddamn day.