Living life in smoke.

I smoked five cigarettes the past two days.
Am I proud? I don't think I care actually. I'm really starting not to care about a lot of things. I'm tired of stressing out, getting pimples and such. Feeling like I need drugs and alcohol to make me feel okay. I don't necessarily want to smoke, or poison my body any further. But it just feels so good so inhale a warm and thick comforting cloud into my lungs like it can block out all the negative feels that are swarming around in there. Like a blanket I guess. I just really want a nice to get seriously, and sorry to be so vulgar, fucked up. I want to start off with some liquor, beer, weed, cocaine, ciggs, and shyt whatever else my sand pile of a brain will be up for. I want that blanket in my body.
I've been freezing.
My emotions are at a stand still. I can't feel much more than recognition. It's a little frustrating to be quite honest. I feel like, especially now, people have been asking me how I feel, what I think. And I sit there and I stare into their confused expressions and I can't find words to describe what I'm thinking. Perhaps I really am just not thinking about anything at all. My heart is frozen solid. The constant cracks to my chest have just made me feel numb.
Not even for a little while.
But for a few months. I just want to leave. Pack up my things and go and keep going. I want a new environment. I want new experiences. I want to leave these shitty feelings and memories behind. I want to leave everyone and everything.