a wake up call

just because you want to be something, doesn't mean that you are. in fact, often quite the opposite.

they talk a lot about fucking, like it's still taboo, like everybody doesn't do it.

they only do it so people think about them that way. because otherwise no one would. it just gets sad after a while.

they're looking at you like you don't know anything, again.

i didn't want to think about her being under the knife. her legs spread apart. the cutting. i didn't want to think about her that way. so i didn't. and eventually i forgot about it all together. but then he called, he brought me into it. so that i felt it with her, even after it was over. thinking of where i came from, everything feels like it needs to end. too tired to try, too tired to care. think about how you got here, where you're going.. why? did i ever feel alive, or is it only an illusion of memory? i know who i am but i try not to be.

the things that move us.

if i didn't do anything based on a feeling of social, moral, or cultural obligation, then i wouldn't..

race

a heaven would be much too similar to justify striving for.

it seemed like thet right thing to say at the time.

i could talk about putting my penis inside of you, and us holding each other so that we can be pretty happy for a moment or so. but no one wants to hear about that. not even me. unsatisfied by nature: who will crack first?

reminder to self:

don't say anything so painfully obvious that people look disappointed.

sometimes ducks just need alone time.

i saw a duck in a small pond by himself without any ducks in sight, just swimming around the pond. i wonder what he was thinking.. gee, i'm glad there's no one around..

jerk.

i always end up with girls nicer than i deserve. eventually they all figure it out.