We suck young blood.

I wish I could still walk around outside at night.
Ever since my brief encounter with that cross eyed sex offender, I feel nervous and rabbit-like whenever I try to walk the night.
It used to be my favorite solitary activity. The streets fall silent, my feet scrape the pave, and the eerie glow of streetlights guide me nowhere.
I used to journey too far, with just the company of my thoughts.
I haven't been eating this weekend.
I had half a donut this morning and a few strips of beef jerky for dinner.
It's easy to slip back into this life, the life where I am alone. Without Nick, I get strange.
It's only been three days.
But he keeps me in the real world, in the saner kinder part of my head.
Alone, I revert to my old habits, the chain smoking, the vague listless days and the wandering nights.
I go on random and endless drives to nowhere.
I look in the pantry and think about cooking something, then get too tired to follow through.
Instead I lie in my bed with all my clothes listening to mournful music.
Instead I smoke and smoke and smoke. As much as Robert Pattinson in "the Haunted Airman."
I hope Nick comes home soon.