missing misery

A new form of depression is setting in, winding up the walls of my mind carelessly, effortlessly. It crawls at the rhythm of a drum, echoing in the distance. I miss her. I miss myself. I'm so fucking tired... Sleepless nights haunt my days, and my lifeless days terrorize my nights. I am wandering without aim, without goal, with small passions, and bigger sorrows. I can't finish a thought let alone a complex plan without a justified meaning, and so I drift from idea to passion to nothing and back to something new. Fuck it all. I just don't really care anymore. I really don't. A me non frega un cazzo... I'll just continue to embrace my misery. I'd miss it anyways if shit got too good.