I've been thinking a lot about that old love, the one that has been on my mind recently, we're sill cool and she's happy with this guy so I'm making this a friendly gesture, but it still means a lot.
First is a bus to Bolton, went fine, next a bus to Wigan, not so fine. The hangover must of kicked in/whiskey wore off and all of a sudden it hits me. Oh anxiety, my old friend, my long lost buddy, you faithful campanero, you twat. Panic attacks, what a bitch.
Suck it in you weak piece of shit. Gotta keep going, nope, not this time, off I get, and what a place, West-fucking-haughton, the biggest dump, well, ever. Bottle of water and a walk should clear the mind, I try to find the train station, it'll be quicker, easier, but I don't wanna give up, even this impending sense of doom can't stop me, death feels so fucking close, exhaustion, feel like I'm gonna collapse, but I know it's only in my head, no matter how real it feels.
At the train station, then on the train, no, cannot hold on anymore.
Off the train, Hindley. Used to work here, grocer and butcher, after working that it's a surprise I didn't turn veggie sooner, I got nothing against anyone who eats meat, but working in a butchers, it's pretty fucking grim.
I am weak, I am beat and I'm going home.
I am a failure.
What a loser.
What a joke.
What a weak piece of shit I am.
