dread

beware the ides of march. --- "julius caesar", william shakespeare

it's always around this time of the month for the past five months --- and, sadly, still counting, because what i think is worthless --- that i inevitably conclude that what we have is a losing proposition.

just before the 11th of every month, instead of being met with a recollection of happy and joy-filled moments, i am confronted with the yawning, lonely abyss of our connection that glows with festering nothingness.

please just kill me and take me from this misery. whenever i try to do anything to save myself, i fail.

no fire and flames

i'm spent.

sad.

on days when i need comfort, i run to you.

it isn't enough that you make me happy each time i see your face.

sometimes, you need to let me need you, too. and just sink into you.

one day you'll probably begin to understand, no matter how little, how selfishness has its own vicious karma. i don't need to cut off your dick to prove this. you will do it just fine.

i wish i could love somebody who would treat me well.

you asked me last night whom i would choose between you and him... and when you persisted in making a fool out of me with the full conviction that i was yours, i realised that i would never choose you. the way cyvil didn't choose you and chose gay raven. i would do the same in her place. any self-respecting person would choose salvation over folly.

in the end, love isn't enough. one-way never sustained a lifelong relationship. look to your own parents and know that i cherish that sort of commitment over your bossiness and explosive temper. you deserve someone who will cut your heart into a thousand pieces and never leave you any change. that person isn't me.