I haven’t written in awhile. I stop when I feel illusions of happiness creep in. Maybe I am happy. I have a great job and so many people that love me. But, when I look around this room all I see is a bad spray tan coating my mascara marked hands, and all I feel is nothing. Place blame. It’s the only steady I can expect from you after all. Sitting in a hot shower, water raining down feels like acid, the only thing that might cleanse this. Come join me in this simulation of the day I’ll meet you in hell, and try to take you away from one more place you don’t want to escape. You feel right at home in the clutches of heartbreak and ice picks and doll like people with one track brains. Say otherwise, but how do we decipher the spiderwebs of Morse code you spin. The answer is we don’t. We move on for the sake of one more sad experience for you to sing about while nobody listens.