What new Devilry is this?

It can be almost immobilizingly painful to put your heart somewhere, even if it is only alighted and teetering in the place and to have it left there to wither in the brutal sun. It is worse to have it shirk away ignored than it is, say, to have it cut into a billion slices, for at least then you know that its existence was acknowledged.

For sooth, this would be better if i were not so, well, so…me. So offened and intense. All those things everyone hates about me. (i know because they’ve told me.) If i could let things stay light i wouldn’t feel this sort of internal rot.

Like wormwood growing in my insides. My soul has that stentch of death. Not just because of this, mind you, but this makes me wollow in all of it.

And what am i really losing? What inside is really bruised? i have not had diginity for along time. Respect for myself was tossed to the wind long ago.

i think what it is really, really is that i allow myself to care about people wayyyyy more than they can care about me, and then this happens.

This! God! This cold fusion burning put out only by friends and vodka. This atomic pain inside fueled by fantasy of happiness. This wilted-daffodil dryness that pulls the lining of my soul away from my skin and the void grows bigger.

And the days still fucking pass. The my breath is still fucking wasted.

Nothing.