Give It All Away: 22 Days

I would give it all away just to have somewhere to go. 22 days to go and I am slipping away. Fading. Drowning. I really don't think I can make it. But what choice do I have. And I am sick of typing about myself. I sick of typing I this and I that. I'm sick of everything. I don't even know why I got out of bed this morning. Every second I'm awake I feel shit and miserable. I have nothing to look toward to part from escaping this pain. Grief. Suffering. Today I went shopping with my mum and that is never a sign of happy ending. But what am I supposed to do. I can't exactly go on my own and I don't have any friends on this side of the continent to go with. And today was the day I experience or had a taste of something I always believed in anyway: you can't buy happiness. No new handbag, pair of trousers or 3 brand new t-shirts will make you feel happy or even stable. And it does not even cover the exposed wounds of distress. In fact all it does is makes you tired. But maybe that is a good thing. I mean, at least while you walking through endless number of shops and picking up cloths you know you will never wear, you don't have to think about what awaits when you get into the car and drive home. When you get out the car and step back into the house that turns your stomach three times around. Then the blood rushes to your head and you feel like falling to the floor and dying.