Mood: illfinedoingdandy
Listening to: New Pornographers
Reading: Desperation (Stephen King) Forgive Me.
Watching: Fresh Prince

This is how it feels to be inept. After making myself more attractive and working out the issues of my life, it still isn't enough. This is funny because for most, he is nothing special. Overweight. Socially retarded. Mediocre at pretty much everything. So, why did I want it? Maybe I want proof to myself that I'm not so bad. I like it when he tells me I'm sexy. I like it when I'm all that's on his mind (as though he could think of more than one thing at a time).

Announcement: I do not mind being objectified. I mind emotional ties right now. I mind your drastic mood swings. You like it. You don't. You're drunk.

Not even Tom Waits could save you. Not Jarvis Cocker. Johnny Marr. Elliot Smith. Lou Reed or a boy named Sue. Especially not SPM. Fuck him.

I think at this point, I'm going to stop shooting myself in the foot. I'm going to stop all of it. What I -am- going to do is start the goodbye process. This doesn't mean I'm going to stop talking to you or...well, any of the other stuff we do. It means that I'm severing emotional ties because you're not worth it. Forgive Jesus, kid. It's not his fault, even though that's what your god would have you believe.

Last night, you -did- use me, and I know it. I let it happen because I was using you too, like a drug. Too bad your needle's bent now, or you could use again. Disable the user, folks, but don't step in his way; he's big enough now to trample you underfoot.

He doesn't read this (I'm glad), but these words are stronger than the Koran (or so I'm told). Motorboating bastard.

More later.

LISTEN TO SUFJAN STEVENS GODDAMNIT.