[yesterday:]

i stare forward through the windshield, my hands gripping the wheel. my grasp on the wheel is much too tight, but i can't tell. my hands, like the rest of my body, are numb. the only part i'm aware of, too aware, is my mind. thoughts fly at me from all directions, screaming reminders of all the things i've done and how impossible it is to help the situation.

this is the life i've made for myself, and there is nobody to blame but me.

the sky is grey and cloudy; i can't help but let out a cynical chuckle at the irony of the weather's imitation of my mood. on a day like today, i think the world must have known i'd feel like this. looking up, i want to yell, "why didn't you tell me!?" i mean, everybody deserves a fair warning, don't they?
but then again, if i really think about it, i knew all along.

possibly, even, before the sky.

because who knows better than i do, how likely it is that i'll find a way to mess up all the good things in my life? or, rather, how certain it is.
that, i'm afraid, is the one thing i KNOW i'm good at.