You are the one...

Thanksgiving.
The day of the year we are supposed to reflect on what we are thankful for. Everyone's posting their Happy thanksgiving...I'm thankful for... as their facebook status. Television airtime is taken up by sappy thanksgiving or even Christmas movies. and of course, football. What am I thankful for? I'm thankful for having a roof over my head. For having roommates who put up with my shit. Mostly because I try to stay out of their hair, and rent is cheaper with more of us here. What else? "Friends" Who don't really like me, who talk so much shit behind my back it's almost unbearable. The ones who are real friends have moved on to bigger and better things, leaving me behind. Family who only pretend to care to keep up the fucking illusion. When really they, a lot like the "friends" think that I'm a fuck up to say the least. Sometimes I wonder what they would do if I disappeared. I really don't think that anyone would notice, until rent time came around. Maybe when I didn't show up for work, for a couple of days. one of my favorite websites is becoming an archive. It's fitting really the one thing I turned to when I didn't think I could hack it anymore, the people who without even knowing it, kept me going for a little longer, ceases to exist. I can still go back to the old stand by. It's just not the same. Things are changing for better or for worse. I fear it's for the worse not the better. I can feel myself sinking further. And I still haven't learned to swim.

A moment of clarity.

It all makes sense now. On one hand I don't think you were lying. You got the attention and the distance you wanted without complaint. Maybe you payed more attention than I gave you credit for. It could just be my sleep deprived brain grasping at anything that would show me the truth. Struggling to find some answer. You knew. You knew what most wouldn't pay much attention to. Maybe you needed it too. You gave me what I wanted. But yet it was you who I blamed. I wanted this. I begged for it. It wasn't anyone's fault really. There was nothing to be faulted for. Twisted some may say but that doesn't make the need any less urgent.

There's the truth, then there's this...

A Maneater? Seriously? Did anyone stop to think it's the other way around. I mean, come on now, who in their right mind would stay away from love so much that they chew people up and spit them out. Why I know that some people do this but that's just not in my nature. Sure i've had one night stands. I've done things i'm not proud of. Hasn't everyone? Done something that you're not proud of? Well here I can't help that everyone knows about everything that goes on. No matter how private things are supposed to be. I suppose that's everywhere. It's human nature to talk right? But what comes of the people you are talking negitively about? Do you think about how what you're saying makes them feel when it gets back to them? Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves? The urban dictionary gives several definitions to a maneater but one of them says something about a man eater is making a guy fall for you then throwing them away. Why is it that guys always get this sympathy thing? like they are the only ones who have any feelings. They have the three F's. Find em Fuck em Forget em. What do girls have? Slut, Hoe, Whore, Maneater. What if we are the ones who are trying to find something? grasp on to things but we're the ones who are chewed up and spit out like we're nothing. Around only so those who use us can satisfy their primal urges so to speak. Have you ever stopped to think why she's doing anything in the first place? Maybe it is in fact to satisfy some primal urge burried deap down inside all of us. Maybe on the other hand it's to try to fill a void that someone else left. A void so big that it'll never be filled. Something that people try their whole lifetime to acheive. I've heard that it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. I know now that it is all bullshit. You can't trust anyone. Love doesn't exist. Everyone is looking out for themselves, basic primal instinct I suppose. We're all human after all.

Tell Me You Forgive me...

I can't sleep yet again. I've lost count of how many day's it's been. It can't be healthy. I have no purpose, no direction, no focus. No reason to sleep, no reason to awake. I don't want to be around anyone at all. Yet I'm so lonely it's unbearable.
My photos are empty. Even the posters. All of them, left with empty backgrounds. A reminder of things lost. Things I let go. Things I want back so terribly but all I can do is set and stare at them. Wanting the answers to questions I'm not prepared to ask.
When I do sleep, there is no rest. Tossing and turning. To be awake feels as though I'm dreaming. Nothing seems real. Though I can sense that something is coming. All of this has to be leading up to something. Maybe it's nothing.