I bet you someone took it. I bet they thought it'd be really funny to fuck with my head and watch me go crazy over something that is right in front of my nose. I know people that do that...
I don't really like it when people try to get a point across and they will tell you "this story" about this friend of theirs, who has a name but not your name, but it is you, has the same situation but not THE situation as you, and instead of straight up telling you what is wrong (in person) or what they think, they'll tell you an elaborate story about you from an outside perspective, as if to enlighten you in some way... Fuck the Enlightenment. In the end their story doesn't make sense because they leave out the one important ingredient... YOU.
Especially when there are others present, perhaps with the same opinion of you. I mean if you really don't like me/it/the way I am that much then why am I hanging out with you? Why haven't you just told me... why can't people just be real! I still remember that one day, a breakthrough, not a breakdown. Before I moved, before we broke up... The day I decided to live life objectively and literally, the day I deemed myself irresponsible for others actions or my thoughts, and it was quite a weight off my chest. Years later I found people thinking me apathetic, level headed even. Laughable. I stare at the wine bottle that I bought weeks ago for emergency uses only. Maybe on the next holiday. Why does nothing ever suffice? Why am I still always left in the dark and outer boundaries? Why do I regret my late introvert? Why am I stuck in this body and why can't I find a decent escape? Because it's impossible... I feel like I've given up on the possibility of psychedelia, the potential for it. I've done these drugs and they don't really heighten my senses it only seems like it. It doesn't really reveal anything to me that wasn't already there, that I wouldn't have figured it out eventually. It hasn't showed me any more beauty than I see daily through these eye balls, these backwards translations. How could I be so naive? Why did I think... and yet now it is a part of life that I feel like abandoning - quitting. But I am so comfortable, here and there and everywhere as long as it's present. ...These people aren't you're friends... they are paid to kiss your feet... They are for entertainment purposes only and how shallow is that?
But then when you find that one that does it out of impulse for you and only you, that's when you know. Still trying to figure that out... My sickness is coming from my disgust with humanity - it's fucking disgusting. It's so vile. It's so dark and gilded and fucking fucked up. And yet it's beautiful and captivating, fascinating.. blah blah blah...
The more I think the more I want to just stop and it makes me cry. I wake up in the morning a contradiction, dead and sweaty and sad but content. It's pathetic. It would be like this everywhere unless I had someone. But not you, or you, or you, or you. I just doesn't happen that way.
Fuck it hurts. I can't wait to fill my head up with more stupid bullshit that at least isn't mine.
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