Unfortunate
I figure that one day I'll either kill myself or die of an overdose. Maybe someone will kill me and save me the stigma of being the suicidal one, or maybe I'll die in an accident. Maybe an innocent bystander in a drive-by, maybe hit by a car. Either way, I don't expect to live a very long life.
It's tragic really, the way I live. Letting my heart fall in love with those who interest me, and in the end finding that they have no interest in me, were feigning interest to get sex, or even just let drugs or primitive urges get to them. I'm the designated fat friend for my best friend, and when guys I'm interested in meet her they're drug in by her outstanding looks. I'm not resentful, I know she knows it bothers me, and in the end she doesn't like the same type of guys I like. I don't fear her stepping in. I know she's honest and when she lies it isn't for gain it's because she wants to keep people from hurting. She has a pure heart, and this is why she is more important than any easily distracted penis bearer that flits into my life.
At the moment I'm blown away by a man I've been blown away with for 2 years. I sent him poetry, knit him a sweater, and brought him a rose on Valentine's day. Still he insists on being friends. I know he likes me but can't admit it to himself. It's like that cheesy 80's song "I'm the one who wants to be with you, deep inside I know you feel it too." I keep seeing other girls touching him, trying to seduce him, and while I am always tempted to go to them and lay them out(because both of them are psychos) I know that he is un-responsive to that sort of behavior. If expressions of love don't win an intellectual, expressions of primitive lust surely won't.
I gave up on Jimmy long ago. I still love him in my heart of hearts, but he likes crazy girls who will abuse him and make him hurt. A tragic artist must suffer. As his favorite tragic artist says "Life is pain." He invites the pain into himself and in the end it will be his undoing. I will remain, however, to pick up the pieces of his shattered life, because I care about him just that much. He too, is of value because he is truly honest. He is himself. And when he lies, he lies to keep people from hurting or to keep people from hurting him.
Why post about honesty and death? Because I recently had a lecture from a unbelievably irritating grad-student professor that basically had him admitting that he uses underhanded methods to get ahead, and that he is a liar. The man that insists we give him a pledge of our honor has no honor. I hope this man fails and ends up flipping burgers. Even if he doesn't end up flipping burgers I know this much, his later life will be empty. Everything he has worked for, everything he has gained, was without merit. He built people up and climbed up their coat tails to reach the grail and forgot to build himself up. I hate him, and people like him.
It's because of people like him I know that I'll die fairly young, and it will be a tragic quick death. I won't waste away of liver failure, cancer, or some other devastating disease. I'll be shot, or maybe one of my depressions will go so deep that I become delirious and kill myself in a hallucination of being a vampire or an immortal being. In this realization I have discovered that I am truly losing my mind and will most likely never recover.
Unfortunate.
It's tragic really, the way I live. Letting my heart fall in love with those who interest me, and in the end finding that they have no interest in me, were feigning interest to get sex, or even just let drugs or primitive urges get to them. I'm the designated fat friend for my best friend, and when guys I'm interested in meet her they're drug in by her outstanding looks. I'm not resentful, I know she knows it bothers me, and in the end she doesn't like the same type of guys I like. I don't fear her stepping in. I know she's honest and when she lies it isn't for gain it's because she wants to keep people from hurting. She has a pure heart, and this is why she is more important than any easily distracted penis bearer that flits into my life.
At the moment I'm blown away by a man I've been blown away with for 2 years. I sent him poetry, knit him a sweater, and brought him a rose on Valentine's day. Still he insists on being friends. I know he likes me but can't admit it to himself. It's like that cheesy 80's song "I'm the one who wants to be with you, deep inside I know you feel it too." I keep seeing other girls touching him, trying to seduce him, and while I am always tempted to go to them and lay them out(because both of them are psychos) I know that he is un-responsive to that sort of behavior. If expressions of love don't win an intellectual, expressions of primitive lust surely won't.
I gave up on Jimmy long ago. I still love him in my heart of hearts, but he likes crazy girls who will abuse him and make him hurt. A tragic artist must suffer. As his favorite tragic artist says "Life is pain." He invites the pain into himself and in the end it will be his undoing. I will remain, however, to pick up the pieces of his shattered life, because I care about him just that much. He too, is of value because he is truly honest. He is himself. And when he lies, he lies to keep people from hurting or to keep people from hurting him.
Why post about honesty and death? Because I recently had a lecture from a unbelievably irritating grad-student professor that basically had him admitting that he uses underhanded methods to get ahead, and that he is a liar. The man that insists we give him a pledge of our honor has no honor. I hope this man fails and ends up flipping burgers. Even if he doesn't end up flipping burgers I know this much, his later life will be empty. Everything he has worked for, everything he has gained, was without merit. He built people up and climbed up their coat tails to reach the grail and forgot to build himself up. I hate him, and people like him.
It's because of people like him I know that I'll die fairly young, and it will be a tragic quick death. I won't waste away of liver failure, cancer, or some other devastating disease. I'll be shot, or maybe one of my depressions will go so deep that I become delirious and kill myself in a hallucination of being a vampire or an immortal being. In this realization I have discovered that I am truly losing my mind and will most likely never recover.
Unfortunate.