Little boy where will you hide
I am so seriously fucked up right now. It’s odd, I actually felt better for a couple days. Happy, almost. I’m trying to write down my thoughts on paper, another letter that will never reach its destination. Right now, on these moments where I need her the most, is when she must stay the hell away from me. Wait for me to get back on my feet and force a smile. I’ll manage, always have.
I hope, someday soon, I’ll stop feeling like an idiot. Better yet, have no reason to. I need to move the fuck away from this place. I’ll destroy myself and that’s no big deal, but I’ll destroy her right along with me and I’ll never forgive myself for it. Damn her for letting me. And DAMN HIM for not seeing what the FUCK he’s doing. What is he, Retarded??? Too busy getting stoned and pissing and moaning about the difference between his dreamworld and reality? The fuck is making the exact same mistakes as me. In his own sheepy way. At least I didn’t look sheepy as I did the dumbest things imaginable.
So what is a 20 year old screw-up to do. Unlike several folks think, I am still able to love and function effectively. I did love that other girl, I really did, although now she has succeeded marvelously in making any love on my part absolutely obsolete. I should thank her for that instead of starting another argument and degrading her to yet another person I feel awkward around.
So the only solution is keeping busy. A temporary one but a solution nonetheless. I’ve been helping some friends paint and organise a place to start a copy shop. You know, a place with copy machines, printers and so on. The owner wants to make it hip, with internet and a corner to sit and drink, and posters and stencils on the walls. I sure as hell hope I get to help with those..
In exchange I get a fat discount for my flyers. I’ll only have one week left when the shop is finished so I guess the flyers are more like a rhetorical thing. You can find temporary designs in the image section, feedback is more than welcome.
It’s striking how I rather sit and feel horrible than move on. It’s pretty obvious in th situation with my ex but not the only example. I think I’m beginning to understand why though. The chances of me ever finding someone with a freak fetish for introverted antisocials like me are looking pretty grim. So I clinge on to what’s left of what I once had like a blind kid cuddling a dead dog.
Of course, next week I’ll come up with another reason. Whatever suits me at the time works, I suppose.