trying to explain.

there is a hole inside of me that wants filling. all the time

there is a weight on my chest. i can't breathe and i wish it would just crush out my life already so that i don't have to walk around with it anymore

i'm missing something, inside my head. i am unengaged by people, mostly. except for the occasional times that they go ahead and stab me in that weighty hole and i engage too much. then it gets heavier and emptier and tries to bleed all over. sometimes it succeeds

mostly though i just don't exist

Because I can't tell anyone real.

Because I can't tell you because you're still a mess. And I can't tell twitter because it would be too awkward and would need too much of an explanation. And I can't tell anyone who knows them because then I would have to explain the pains I went to to find out and why I care.


He's forty, she's twenty-six. I feel vindicated. And I feel hope for all of the relationships that aren't supposed to happen. (Even though I'm pretty fucking stuck on you and you're two years younger than me.)


I also feel like a major creep. In major part I blame facebook for making that kind of socially acceptable, but I also just feel like a creep.

But I don't regret it.



I don't think I can adequately articulate the significance of this for me.

Fuckity-fuck-fuckfuck

You're not supposed to hurt. I mean obviously you will because you're human and not impervious but fuck you're supposed to be okay. I'm supposed to be the fucked up (er) one and yet I'm still on the fence (procrastinating) about getting help and you broke down. And we're fucking seventeen hundred kilometres apart. And that was killing me long before I needed to be there for you. Fuck.

I love you.

This is one of those moments where I wish I believed in a god who gave a shit. (Please god.) Be okay?

I've got it easy.

If they can do it, I can fucking manage too.

*determined face*

Please.

Please stop trying to blame society for the way my brain works? It's not that I'm special, it's just not that simple either.

And it doesn't help.

Eating peanuts and being miserly.

Sometimes I feel as though most of the people around me are a bit dim. And then I feel like an awful, awful person.

But supposing, just for a moment, that I actually were a bit less dim, what the fuck's the point if I've got nothing to show for it?