Making more marks

I sometimes wonder what I'm doing here in this drab, gray apartment building. My dad left me a lot of money...so why am I in such a dumpy place?
I had forgotten to pay the electric bill (what's new?) and so my apartment was freezing and dark. Not to mention the weather outside was not much better: wind and gray skies. Awesome.
I haven't slept in quite some time, due to the fabulous temperature of my home. I've been eating less and cutting more. I think that I'm doing worse than ever....but, I don't care.....it's not like he's here anymore.

I get up from my couch, cigarette in hand, and slowly walk over to the window. I look out onto the street, which is completely desolate. There is not a living soul in sight. No one wants to go out in weather like this.
Why am I here, again?

I turn around and walk back to the kitchen. The room smells so incredibly sour. Damn. Whatever is in my fridge needs to be thrown away....nah, I don't feel like it.

I look around for cigarettes....I can't find anymore. My I have already smoked up my last pack. Great. Cigarettes happen to be one of the few things that I cannot live without...I guess that I'm going to have to go get some at the store.

As soon as I get to the elevator, the doors open, exposing a woman dressed in a short dress and high heels. She gives me a nasty look that asks, "are you getting on, or what?". I really do hate people sometimes.
The elevator doors close behind me, encasing me in a box that reeks of perfume and total awkwardness. The doors open and I quickly exit, making my way out into the windy and gray atmosphere of this hell hole.

The grocery store is fairly empty--thank God.
I grab a six pack of beer and head to the cashier to get some camel lights.
After I scrounge around for change at the bottom of my coat pocket, I am able to come up with the money to pay for my "necessities".

All too quickly I am back in apartment 901. Thank God.
I pop open a beer and light up a cigarette, making my way to my old, beat up couch. I inhale and wash the smoke down with a swig of the bitter liquid. Heaven.
I close my eyes and think of Him.
I inhale again, this time keeping the smoke inside my lungs as long as I can.
I open my eyes and extinguish the cigarette butt the cushion of my couch. I watch the tiny red pieces slowly burn a hole into the fabric.
Oh well.
I go to the kitchen and go straight to my knife drawer.
I open the drawer, exposing the beautiful, sharp and shiny blades of relief. I slowly pull one of them out, examining it closely.
I watch as my left hand wraps itself around the handle of the knife, guiding the blade to my right wrist. The blood comes out in a smooth, straight line.
"this one's for you," I think.