fuck this

sad is the new happy

she doesn't know what i'm like when i'm happy. she's never seen it. eventually what she knows of me will become my new happy. sad. that's what happens when we forget any other way of being, we're left only with all we have. let's write a fucking story:

once there was a little boy, naive and ripe with affection, as most little boys are. he was curious of girls and did nothing about it, knowing very well what movies said about such things and how to treat someone you cared about with utmost attention, care, and sincerity. little did he know that this was the closest to mastering the art of love he would ever know. as experiences were had girls were had as well. the very first love he never really had. the second love he lost to another. the third he wouldn't let himself deserve. many more were thrown away to the oblivion of indifference. and now i sit alone with a bottle of wine, i swear, there was a time when i would have made a wonderful lover. but that time has passed.