I can whine all I goddamn please, right?

[red_is_in]

I like to pretend that I matter in situations where I don't. I fucking know I don't and my gut still drops to the floor when I think I see that car pull up in front of my work with that silhouette. It's moronic and completely futile and based on nothing remotely close to the truth. I'm fucking lonely and beyond delusional somedays. It's a big fucking joke, you and me and everything and everyone else. All my fucking bullshit and tonight I'm alone and tonight I feel it. I'm shutting down and you're going out. All these imaginary people I build up in my head just keep letting me down. And Jesus Fucking Christ, I'm sick of mismatches and distances and circumstances and good guys with bad girlfriends. Yes, I know you still "love" me and yes, I know if you were straight we'd be phenomenal and yes, I am cooler than her and yes, I think we would've hit it off amazingly if only I'd see you more than twice a year. If only can only get me so far. If only I'd just fucking get over everything. I think I did, better than I hoped, and it ended up leaving me open to falling all over again. I'm going to be a fucking wreck during the month he's out in California. I'm going to be a fucking wreck and if I see him he's going to ditching his girlfriend and I'm a fucking wreck. Oh, how lovely. Who wouldn't want to keep such a lovely girl like myself company?! Hey, I'd probably leave me to. I mean, I ruin my own life and all

Dear Mother, I wish you could stand inside
and see all my bad days.
My bad days all got together
and they stood in a row for me,
and I plunged deep into the row,
and I couldn’t hear and I couldn’t see.
And I came out after thousands rose
and thousands passed away.
Now I stand all alone at the foot of the stairs
and I wait for more bad days.