You're not that good.
You're being ridiculous, you're kidding yourself on so many levels. I've promised three different women I'd sex them up this weekend and I feel too shitty to even walk my dog. What the hell are you doing, anyway? While normals look for love, I look for its void. I feel flawed, I know where it is but I'm forced to ignore it. That's it, that's the one, but it's unobtainable. Meaning, that aspect of life and need is not a choice. Just go with life, it's fun emptiness. It's really no different than peaks and valleys of any existence. Pleasures, even brief, they are.
Why did I do that?
Typical. You knew better, you even promised yourself to never feel anything again because you know the result is bound to repeat. Well, brain, I told you so. I turned that shit back on for nothing. You've been reduced again. Broken down again. Lied and betrayed. Again.
Fucking idiot.
I hate that putrid emotion again. It's useless anyway, a distraction of what is really important: my selfish pleasure and self made reality.
I knew what I was doing but I had to feel.
Foolish.
Feel nothing, be sick and sad only. You've lost and deserve such.
So there it is.
Lost.
I don't miss "it".
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