(no subject)
Well, I lost again. It never gets any easier, even though I talk as if it does. I do this to myself, I know it. The problem is I can't stop myself. Everyone else has their vices in life, this is mine.
Everyone said she was wrong for me, but I never got a chance to find out. This is probably a blessing, but it's frustrating as hell to go through. And, because I'm a nice guy, I don't want her to feel bad about it, so I have to just suck it up and act like I'm fine and dandy.
I don't know, maybe I was just meant to be one of the supporting characters that never really shines, but just sort of moves the story along. Through all of this, I have yet again found out that I'm the epitome of what a friend should be. I've also learned that I evidently don't have the qualities that women are attracted to. Well, they are attracted to the ones I have, but only in a friendship kind of way.
Maybe I should just write for a living. I'm not particularly good, but people usually like reading about people who have bad luck in relationships. It makes them feel good about what they have. And here comes the disclaimer.
Every time I write one of these things, in the back of my mind I am mocking myself. Seriously? Am I really writing and complaining about how I can't find someone? This is the type of shit that people moan about in sappy movies. There are people out there dying, man! And you are sitting here bitching about some girl who doesn't like you? It comes with the territory of always trying to be rational and trying not to sink into what I think of as weak.
This would be so much easier if I was addicted to something physical. I could just have one of my good friends restrain me and keep me from it. But no, no one can control what I think or feel, not even me. I analyze things to the point of insanity. I claim to be so carefree all the time, but it's all a rouse. I work myself up over the stupidest things, but at the time, they mean everything. I mean, seriously, not getting to sleep because your mind is racing over minutia can not be healthy.
After all of this, I am still alive and well, I have great friends who care about me, a loving family, and I really shouldn't have anything to complain about. But, if you are reading this, you probably know, I can complain about anything. I need a detox too, maybe we can help each other out.
Everyone said she was wrong for me, but I never got a chance to find out. This is probably a blessing, but it's frustrating as hell to go through. And, because I'm a nice guy, I don't want her to feel bad about it, so I have to just suck it up and act like I'm fine and dandy.
I don't know, maybe I was just meant to be one of the supporting characters that never really shines, but just sort of moves the story along. Through all of this, I have yet again found out that I'm the epitome of what a friend should be. I've also learned that I evidently don't have the qualities that women are attracted to. Well, they are attracted to the ones I have, but only in a friendship kind of way.
Maybe I should just write for a living. I'm not particularly good, but people usually like reading about people who have bad luck in relationships. It makes them feel good about what they have. And here comes the disclaimer.
Every time I write one of these things, in the back of my mind I am mocking myself. Seriously? Am I really writing and complaining about how I can't find someone? This is the type of shit that people moan about in sappy movies. There are people out there dying, man! And you are sitting here bitching about some girl who doesn't like you? It comes with the territory of always trying to be rational and trying not to sink into what I think of as weak.
This would be so much easier if I was addicted to something physical. I could just have one of my good friends restrain me and keep me from it. But no, no one can control what I think or feel, not even me. I analyze things to the point of insanity. I claim to be so carefree all the time, but it's all a rouse. I work myself up over the stupidest things, but at the time, they mean everything. I mean, seriously, not getting to sleep because your mind is racing over minutia can not be healthy.
After all of this, I am still alive and well, I have great friends who care about me, a loving family, and I really shouldn't have anything to complain about. But, if you are reading this, you probably know, I can complain about anything. I need a detox too, maybe we can help each other out.