typing on chloe minervini's computer

my throat hurts today. i couldn't figure out why so i decided to believe my life on the west coast is just bits and pieces of other people's lives here. my soar throat isn't really mine. it's yours. my sobriety is also yours and so is my sanity. or in this case, the lacking of both those things. sorry that i called you and sorry that i left you the longest voicemail in the universe. it wasn't my voicemail, it was yours. i am not really angry at you, you are angry at you. you are angry at yourself and here i am to take it all in, right where you wanted me. i am a little sponge and i bask in this nothingness and take it all in. this is my only way of survival. if i didn't have your trials and tribulations, i would have nothing. this is not my fault, it is yours. i am your loneliness and your company, which ever you may choose. i am your regret. i am only these things while i am here, and when i go, you go. all the bits and pieces and parts of you that i accumulated disappear. this is not my fault, it's yours.