Corpse like contemplation

I seem to have let go of what ever it was that I was so desperately holding onto... That thing that was supposed to make all of this mean something, mean anything... Maybe it was this, tiny pathetic point of reason, of justification that allowed the rest of myself to wither away into nothing- until finally when I pried my sweaty little fingers open to reexamine exactly what that was- I realized that it was just air, just open emptiness instead of solid fact and form... It was nothing that i held onto, and thus I had become such.

It was merely addiction that held me in sway, and I'm sure it still does; what it replaces in my life I'm not exactly sure though I'm aware it exists and I'm aware that it continues to hold something for me. I don't know why it needs to be. I don't know why I continuously seem to follow any kind of rhyme or reason at all, when all sense of integrity, honesty, selfless existence has completely eradicated itself from my life within who I am and how I fitted into the network of important people or valued anyone or anything but myself.

I claimed I could love, I claimed I found love but I am thinking that too is a lie, when I finally pause for a moment of breath to discover that I've not been home in over a month, I've completely missed my best friends birthday, allowed the only female friend I've managed to keep in continuum for two years completely in the dark to my safety or whereabouts and my own boyfriend seems as far away in mind and in respect as my mind can dream...

Where did my sense of morality go? Can I actually feel any truth at all?
When I find this figment of importance, I shall let you all know... Until then I guess you should go about your business knowing that at least I'm aware of the empty corpse of a human I have become, and allow me to rot silently in peace without it effecting any of you; because I'm afraid that if I allow any importance to fall on anything or anyone I'll relentlessly self sabotage until it is turned into something I hate more than myself... And if I hate anything more than myself I might just be able to continue to lie that I'm not as bad as that which I despise thus giving me excuse to continue living like I do free of guilt from some self imposed delusion of an acceptable existence.