Anytime at all.

3 in the morning drunken phone calls are not enough anymore.

Another party, another realisation.

Left in the spare room like a spare part. Not wanted here and know it. Need a hug, need a friend, need some fucking sympathy. There's not much of that to go around for a spare part, though. The lyrics of 'Hand Me Down' play on loop in head. Mistake. Mistake. Mis-takes. And tears.

Cry YOUR fucking heart out. YOU'RE used goods now sweetheart.

"Sometimes I don't mind not being able to go back to who I used to be."

Living through past memories, going over and over until I've bled them dry. Soon they'll be nothing. My words will hold no meaning and my experience will all be just what I've seen in films. I can define parts of myself from my past but where's the line between that and the past defining me? If I speak words of wisdom it's due to self obsession, If I offer gestures of kindness I don't expect it to be taken without something in return, and if I love you - don't expect it to be anything more than a need for you to love me back. I've grown tired of being lodged in a past where I'd become nothing but routine.

I am not my family nor friends.

I am not my successes nor failures.

I am not my regrets.

Hello 2009.