Blue.
My ash tray is full, my bottom lip is torn to pieces from chewing on it.
I need to leave the house, I need to drive, I need to move.
I need to find the motivation to do something other than sit here in complete shock.
The CD player is on shuffle, but all that's playing is Bulbs and Comfort You, over and over again.
I want to crawl into a deep hole, and never come out again, but I know I'm already as deep as I can get.