Sort of Hard-Boiled and Gritty
I looked at my last post on the 9th of this month. Wow. Time, such a trickster. Where does it go when you're not looking? Graduation is almost here! It's a litte scary how fast it's approaching.
So today I want to talk about love and how I seem to be immune to the effects (affects?) of love. I really think that Matt and I are going to be friends and nothing more. No need to push it because if it ain't broke, don't fix it! I'm going to be dark, self-condeming, or whatever you want to call it. I'm a writer, it's expected. PLEASE DON'T FEEL SORRY FOR ME!! And I'm being serious when I say this. I don't want you guys to have pity for me for anything I write in the next paragraph, I just want to get it out. So with that said, let the self-deprication commence.
I sometimes wish I was born without the ability to love and care. Not for you guys, mind you, but with boyfriends and men in general. I foolishly invest so much time and energy trying to figure out if I like a guy and if he likes me and thinking about him and all of that well to do lovey shit. I really do think my life would be much easier if I wasn't such a damn fool for love. I see all of these guys, see them or hear about them with their boyfriends and think to myself, "Where did you find him? Is his kind locked away somewhere and I just don't have the key or what?" I would consider myself to be good boyfriend material, but all I seem to attract is the wrong kind of guy. Where do I get that from? Why me?
I wonder why we as the human race even bother with the idea of love. Love kills us, love creates us, love unmakes us and causes us to do some of the dumbest shit. So why bother? And don't tell me it's all about hope. Hope was born in me and died in me. I am the ghost of hope. Call me hopeless.
I force myself to love those that I don't. Why? Because I was born this way. Born to work for something that I may never have. And even if I do have it it won't be exactly what I want because my foolish heart desires perfection but I was born in the real world and my love has ultimately died in it.
I am the vampire sucking away at the bitter blood of love's carcass. It burns going down but I am a sadist and drink until love is dry. Sun burns me to ash.
Amy Winehouse was right, love is a losing game and I do wake up alone, so now I think I'll take the box.
Peace. Out.