Altered Mental Status

Sun Oct 27 2002 03:00AM -0600

I choose these situations. If I learn to accept this fact, then perhaps I wouldn't get stuck in these recursive loops of making the same mistakes over and over again.

And why am I writing this filthy drek when my mind is addled by too little sleep and too much to drink? Oh, there is a part of me that dreams that if I just spill all my guts out onto the concrete floor, if I just expel all my dirty little secrets like so much vomit, that I'll be all right, that whatever it is that is intoxicating me and causing me to fall for such madness will be evacuated, that somehow my soul will be cleansed, that I will be OK, that I need not fear the darkness.

Wishful thinking.

So. In any case, I will write.

There is this girl that for some unfathomable reason, I want to spill all my deranged secrets to. This is all I want, and yet I have been warned, I have been warded away, she has told me of the inevitable consequences of my irrational infatuation. In other words, I am doomed.

Still. How can I resist?

But I have lived enough of life, despite being young, to know that all my heartache will come to naught, and will-I-or-nil-I, the progression of events lies entirely in her hands.

I have only fool's hope to cling to.

If only I could discern the secrets of the Art of Not Wanting.

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