And just when you think you're starting to get your shit together...

so then the door hits you on the way out. cold steel against your scantily clad bottom- it ALWAYS hits you on the way out, as if to say "you weren't wanted here anyways"- and the one place I never let them in becomes the one place I can truly hide- perhaps I did this on purpose? as if I was planning for this eventuality because I knew I was too fucked up to make it work. as if someone like me could ever make it work- but maybe that's really me talking instead of the alcohol, because God-damn, I am one morbid sonuvabich. So what do you do when all signs point to you waving goodbye as you flush four years of pain, suffering, and the most fulfilling relationship you're ever experienced down the drain? Drink. Heavily. Drunk dial anyone you ever thought seriously about even as a friend to let them know how much they meant to you, because for all you know this could be the last time you give enough of a fuck about anything to tell them just how much they helped you deal with all the fucked up shit in your life. But no- you chose to face all the monsters and your partner in crime didn't run away, no- they hid behind you as you fought the monsters off and battled through all the problems alone and tried to drown out all the abandonment issues you both had and all the impossible tears behind the music, because songs don't count as admissions of weakness, no- they're the one safe expression of self that's left in the world thanks to the record companies selling out every last one of their so-called stars to pre-recorded messages and glitter to make top-download quality hits on itunes. as if it weren't enough that I lose one of the few people who I actually gave a damn about, now I'm having to accept the fact that my soul-mate and I just want different things in life- fuck love, it's a bitch and a bitch will never do you right. So why should I keep trying? Keep propping up this propaganda under the guise of "true love", of "destiny", that one solid proof that we aren't responsible for this shit-hole we're born into and trapped in for life. THAT is the irony behind the phrase "life sentence , as in sentenced to life, as in you aren't worthy of death- the best punishment we could cook up for you is forcing you to live with yourself till you die of natural causes or being raped by a massive black dick one too many times- whichever happens first. So fuck life. fuck love. fuck restraint. and fuck anyone who says they give a shit because they don't. in fact- most people go their entire lives without experiencing a truly self sacrificing love- that is the truest form of love, a love that cares more for other than for self. think on that, you over-privileged assholes. The choice to move on from a long term dis-functional relationship means the destruction of one of us, literally  one of us has to move out, or corrode under the strains of watching the other move on- there is no happy ending to this.

introduction to a short story I'm considering writing, we'll see what happens.

Boredom is like morphine, it numbs away your very sensibility and leaves you heaving and writhing in dizzy fits of ecstasy and agony- like a scratchy old blanket it smothers you irritating even deepest fiber of your being; like some creature or organism that is crawling beneath your epidermis- writhing and clawing to get out, until the point when you feel like you're going to explode- but then you don't.

Sleep- that bitch of a lover who never comes when you call and is nowhere to be found when you most need her, yes these are the things that make us human, these are the truest pangs of our existence- not love or suffering, not anything so grandiose as all of that- something much simpler, so much so that it might escape us by slipping from the shadow of one white blood cell to the next until our curiosity becomes exhausted in our great search- no, quest for reason in this blinding insanity we refer to as life. Yet how does she do it? How does she lure us in with her comforting abyss after depraving us of our vitality even our sanity is not sacrosanct to her wiles while at play preying upon our feeble little minds- too timid yet to solve even our basest of problems combating our most basic instinct when called into play by our natural desires- Yes, these are the things we have little control over except for those who are strong or smart enough to fight it with every breath, and with every breath distort the lies until they have yet again become some sort of truth in someone's bleary eyes- yet are we all so blinded and impaired  bound and gagged by our own sick minds and dark perversions? Where does it all stop?

When will it again become prevalent that our children be like-minded of each-other and our homes all freshly painted with a well maintained auto in the driveway and a kitchen amply ready to satisfy even the most challenging of appetites? These are the things I wander over in my mind over and over again while I lounge here listlessly just trying to think straight but without thinking, to-
She started from her self absorbed reverie as one of her grandmothers' tacky ceramic vases collided with the ground propelling a smattering of water droplets up the front of her frock and dousing her worn boots to a quite calamitous end. It did her mind good to watch the depictions of smirking cherubs shatter, never again could they scorn her for her shortcomings.

Maybe someday I'll get motivated- until then, reddit. ^.^

I made a new meme a few days ago, I am waiting till I make a couple more to post it anywhere though. >.> so much stuff to do.