i tried to do everything right, but i got everything wrong. the moral to learn here is, effort does not equate to success, like all the successful people are fond of saying. how disillusioned i was, thinking that if i surrounded myself with people i trusted, then eventually everything would turn out all right. betrayal is a bitter drink, and after the sweet taste of ignorant bliss, it is relatively even more so. and now i play at these small games, trying to stack the wins against the tyrannic frustration of being powerless to change the course of the river to even the most minute degree. i yelled into a world of silence, and didn’t even get the satisfaction of an echo. it kind of helped, though. i’m sure the people that nervously edged away from me would agree. nothing else really does. help, that is. all the things that i’ve been telling other people when they were going through this particular brand of sadness, have lost their luster under the harsh abrasions of personal reality. knowing that the flow of time will carve a gorge through any mountain only makes me impatient for a future when i will only have used to miss her. that’s when i’ll forget that her favorite color is purple, her favorite perfume is escada, and the sound of a hair dryer makes her oddly somnolent. she has a secret love for eggs benedict, a not so secret love for sushi, and her ideal meal would consist of kobe beef, uni, and oysters. she’s just getting over her fear of the dark, and is too emotionally affected by things to enjoy sad movies. she has trouble remembering the name for her favorite french pastries, or pronouncing some words that end with “n”. obviously, i haven’t forgotten yet, but hopefully sooner rather than never. i’ve been told that getting laid will help me forget, but i really don’t see how. the two organs involved are respectively positioned above and below my heart for a reason. or maybe i’ve gotten it all wrong all along. respect no bitch, trick all hoes. haha, it sounds funny when i write it, let alone say it out loud. nah, the salacious life is not for me. maybe not so much because of personal morals (any more), but more because it sounds like it involves too much lying and puffery. and i usually try to be honest and objective. it’s easier because you don’t have to remember as much. oh well. all that’s left is the knowledge that my happiness and success is the sweetest revenge against those who never believed in me. now i just need to be happy and succeed. oh, it sounds so easy..

god, how do i make this shit stop? look at me, praying to a deity that i stopped having faith in when i was twelve. and everytime my life cleaves in two, i lift my face in the vague opposite direction from the earth’s core, hoping to find solace written in the stars. but they’re just celestial bodies, and i’m a terranic nobody. all that ever results from my silent but fervent pleading, is the birth of a migraine, pain from clenching my teeth (as if that would amplify my prayer beams. read: aluminum foiled tv.), and that omniscient silence that’s been so effing helpful providing food for the table. this is my interpretation of god. maybe satan implanted it in me, potted it in my pride, and watered it with futility. all i know is, god is the enemy. he takes credit for my work, and blames me for mine iniquities. he’s never there when i look, but always there when i don’t need him. kind of like a cat. god is a cat. and my ambivalence towards cats has taken a swift turn to planning out their deaths without getting caught. i will succeed without you, or die trying. or maybe i’ll just die to spite you, god/cat.

too many regrets to continue, too many faults to correct. from the very start, it wasn’t something i didn’t expect. because if a lot of good can be overshadowed, by just a little bad, then a little bit of happiness will definitely fall to a lot of sad. i can’t say that i’m okay yet. maybe in a month or three. but i’ll survive, as always. at least, hopefully. for now, when something gets a little better, i think that everything does. then i remember one thing, and realize that nothing does. this is how it feels to be a house without a door; this is how it feels to be a beach without a shore. robbed of my very core, I’ve forgotten who I am, never felt the departure of even the twenty first gram. don’t worry if i look angry, or if i pretend to be upset. i will make of myself a pariah, because it’s easier to hate than forget.

i’m going to go back under my rock, please.

I’ve been better. In both senses of the phrase, in that I’ve recently been better than I have been being, but I’ve also been better than the better that I have been recently. I hope that makes sense.

A news anchor said, “Homeowners”, and I heard, “Homo Nerds”. 

For the first time in a long time, I spent my day curled up in bed reading a book. It was satisfying in a way that no drug could ever be, when I turned the last page. And equally depressing. Tomorrow I return to work, and the monotony of a world where dragons do not exist.

it’s been 3+ months now, interjected with quick reactivations for irresistible cat video recommendations. but now i have no outlet for my photo randoms. sorry for the sudden influx of photo randoms, is what i’m trying to say.