I have so many lies that I’m honest.
I always think of the day where everything will blow up in my face, it’ll all be out, and I cringe momentarily…but then…I’m free.
Free of what? These are self-inflicted wounds that I hound on.
I think to myself why I can’t let go of my ex emotionally. He’s 2,000 miles away and we talk all the time. We talk like nothing ever happened, as if I never came to him saying I’m slowly leaving you but can’t let you go because it’s my turn to be a selfish human being.
Because I will say this numerous times, humans are sick sadistic, masochistic animals, whether you believe it or not. There’s no other explanation for this, for what we do.
For who I am that people get the tidbits of, due to my selective honesty, looping through the technicalities of honesty and lying.
I keep repeating that I am a horrible person. I mention this and people don’t believe what horrible actions I can inflict on others or what I’m referring to.
The people who I hate and get disgusted with are the people who reflect myself. People like me.
I can only be honest is in writing, to strip this all away, dissect my thoughts, and hear it to myself so maybe one day I can have an answer.
The truth be told is that I don’t know how I feel about anything anymore. I shouldn’t have to think how I feel, I shouldn’t have to give something a chance to feel either.
This is just a rant, no real purpose, no story to tell. These are just words that millions of people have thought, I am no different, neither are you.
We’re the few though that try on a daily basis to be honest and not get fucked on a daily basis, and if we do, we take it and show to the world that it doesn’t hurt.
Tell me where it hurts?
Ask yourself that.
I did. Not sure where. I seem to always morph these thoughts and feelings into anger. I thought I was over the anger phase, how many years will this take? For me to not lose it when a male low life customer tries to touch me, when I get screwed out of a car-again, money, time, youth, and any innocence and shreds of hope left.
All of that is happening right now, but I was born into that, I’ve lived that forever. There’s more…under.. under the casual sex, the need and crave of a gentle touch. The unattached scared responses of someone falling for you and you know that you might break their heart. The manipulation. The need to be alone, along with the fear. People like me. Fucked up people who have intimacy issues but beg a part of themselves to be fucked hard because that is what we deserve. Deserve what? For what? Nothing. Not a damn thing. Just a feeling.
People like me.
That are constantly worried about time. They measure it, count it and ironically waste it but needed a chunk put aside specifically to waste.
That worry about things that they created in their heads.
I’m a horrible person that needs another horrible person. To use and be used. To figure out what I’m using for. The appeal of an addict; getting off to nothing.