remember when we were such fools, and so convinced, and just too cool

I guess, sometimes there's nothing more to say. When things get too complicated, too convoluted, words only make things worse. Sometimes you just have to deal with it, move on. Sometimes you have to let go. Sometimes you have to. Because that small window for when they did care is gone. When he'd call you up, that's right call you up and ask what was wrong.

I start things sometimes for sport. It's all for sport, you know. Because, life gets mundane sometimes. And then, it goes too far, and then I have to back track, but by then, it's too late.



I'm still trying to get off the board, considering you got off a long time ago.



I'm tired of these games I keep getting wrapped into.

empty threats, without candor

I can't go on making these requests, these resolves, and then throwing them all away in an intoxicated stupor over a text or an IM. God, we don't even use the phone anymore. And god you used to respect me, you used to answer me, you used to be my friend, you used to give a fuck.

And I can't say it was all my fault because it wasn't.

But I can say, common culture was right, sex does ruin everything.




I pretty much just need to get over it.


I guess, I expected more out of you. At the end of the day, I expected more out of you. But perhaps, I didn't know you as well as I thought I did at the beginning. Perhaps that was my mistake, my fault.

And I won't make a big deal out of this time. I'll keep your life drama free. I won't defriend you on Facebook.

What have we come to, in an age where things as small, as pointless, as effortless, as meaningless as an IM, a text, or a defriendship have come to matter so much?




I still refuse to believe the entire male species is filled with assholes. But I do believe it's filled with a good number of cowards.

Sometime we'll get together and we'll break it down.

So after a minor breakdown in a bathroom of club and an episode of the psychotic and swearing to stop speaking to him. All of this occurring in a span of 24 hours. I decided I'm going to play this game until I can't anymore.

Bad idea? Perhaps, probably. But what else is new? When I want something, I guess I can't help but go after it even if it will lead me nowhere. Even if it eventually makes me a fool.

I call you up after hours. And why? Because I wanted to. I mean, that's really all there is to it.

And honestly, this shit may be hard, but it shouldn't be complicated. Say what you mean, mean what you say.


And did you ever notice how life is either a series of coincidences or chance meeting fate. If you assign meaning to a coincidence then it becomes fate, but if you don't ascribe any meaning, then it's merely a coincidence. But it's all essentially the same thing.

You know how you have those friends that you can just call when you're bored and it's okay. The kind of relationship where you can randomly drop by their house and hang out doing nothing for hours and it's okay. I miss the way we were last summer. When you used to be just that, and there was no pressure and I could just be me. I didn't care what I looked like, I didn't care what I said, and nothing was awkward. I didn't worry about if I was calling you too much or texting you too much or IMing you too much or if our conversation was too bland or all those other million stupid things that you start to worry about when other crap gets into the mix. I mean, the reason why I decided I liked you to begin with was because I was completely comfortable with being me around you. And last summer when I felt like shit, I remember you made me get out of my hole, and I came over and here you were, this friend of mine, and I thought, even in my state, you were kind of adorable. Ah and that's where it all started to go wrong.

And now, I mean here we are. And we're friends, but it's not like it was before because maybe it's just me, but it just feels so damn awkward. But I'm not sure if I know how to go back, or if I even want to go back entirely. And sure, we could talk about it, talk it out, but I'm so damn tired of talking.

I'm consistently compromising my need for sexual gratification with the things I really want. And my conscience keeps creeping out from the back of my mind. That this isn't what I really what, that this isn't really who I want to be. But in the moment of heightened emotions, you just think, oh fuck it. And this is where I've been.

I think I was actually going to talk about something else, but I've digressed.