journal entry

  Well what the fuck? How am I supposed to feel and how I am supposed to deal with it? This is the strangest situation I’ve ever been in and for once I’m not trying to control things and just let things fester. I really don't see any other way around this aside from not talking to her anymore. I don't think I can do that right now, maybe sometime in the near future, but right now I don't think I am capable.

  I am sitting here with everything in my goddamn life in limbo and I think a little playful joking about it is well fucking earned. These are the reasons I despise people and despise letting them in to my life because they only have any understanding as far as is convenient for them but when it gets down into the real grit, and they see how dysfunctional and sad I really am they run away or we have conflict. I will never be a happy and positive person, boo fucking hoo for you. Either deal with it or leave me alone. I am completely fine with either one. I have been through enough life draining crap to know that I really have nothing left and I completely lack any plan what so ever. I am just waiting around to die and, if truth be told, I am trying to do that in a steady though private fashion. I will not disclose the details of how I am going about that, but nevertheless it is and has been underway.

  I am joyless in life. I have little stints here and there, and I am real good at faking a smile, but the real truth is I end up alone, which I have gotten quite used to. The romantic bullshit side of me, or should I call it the lies I was fed as a child which instilled in me a hopeless belief in things that aren't real, says that I don't want to be alone, but the realistic side of me says that I have no choice in the matter because I am insane and no one should be subjected to the amount of bullshit that I acquire and cause on a daily basis. So I am alone, and that fact is so old that it doesn't even affect me anymore. I feel either numb or bitter and sometimes both nowadays, and every once in a while some little heart flutterer will come my way and throw her hair in my face and I’m expected to be saved by love. Get fucking real, there’s no such thing. Endorphins and dopamine cannot save anyone. I have no dreams left and I have no illusions about what love is. It’s a proximity infatuation, its a toy of the week, its a fad and it fades, and all that’s left is remorse for your body becoming tolerant to the chemicals that love invokes.

I just don't care anymore.