only after you lose everything are you free to do anything.

.






in a state of self-imposed depression. succumbing to the weaknesses of the mind and, more importantly, those of the heart. my human condition.
fuck it all.





realization of the fact that the only person you poured so much love and desperation into is drifting further away. heart clenches with every little show of indifference. beg him to look, please, and see. he leaves you know that it's because he can't bear the sight of you. all your energy devoted to trying to show him you love him, yet at night, after fucking, you whisper i love you, not even sure, and close your eyes because he already knows and just doesn't care, even if he wants to give a damn he just can't. but that's not even the worst of it. the worst of it is that you become, as a product of your fears and desperation, so willing to degrade yourself. it's not even conscious, the realization occurs in retrospect, that you would have been ashamed to have acted the way you did and accepted the things you did if it wasn't for the pathetic sense of anxious need you feel. but i understand, and i feel sorry for her, and hate him all the more because it's all too flattering for him.
masochistic bitch.
all of us.



what the fuck are we doing, looking through red-rimmed daisies and thinking, not doing, complaining like unloved bastards without a god to burn and blame. it's all the same shit and the same weakened breath of air that comes out of your mouth, leaving that putrid stench in the air and a shade of grey on your lip. what do we do, us faithless, other than fuck and fancy ourselves intelligent.