crash

No, there's not something wrong with my blog - I really have turned the comments off. For now, anyway. I mean, words are great, but I don't want words. I want a cuddle. I want all the things we were going to have and do together before it all went wrong.

Late at night is probably always going to be the hardest for me, as it's the only time I'm left on my own with my thoughts. Oh, and first thing in the morning, when I open my eyes and see an empty space next to me. And everytime I hear The Killers' album. You were always on my list. And everytime I see his cat (who still lives here). And everytime I see the cuffs and stuff in the bedroom - stuff he bought when our relationship was better than it had ever been. And every time Top Gear's on the tele... oh, and everytime I see a blue Mondeo.

And probably about six million other things as well.

I don't know why we've said the things we have to each other. Anger maybe, confusion possibly, heartache definitely - for me at least. Or is that fear? I don't know. The line between being broken-hearted and being fucking petrified of being more broken-hearted is a very fine one, and I can't see dick through these tears.

So do excuse me, I'm going to go drink myself into a stupor. Back soon.