oh I see...

I am supposed to be more compassionate because it is the "Xmas" season right?? well no one is here for me, just like any other random Wednesday night. Here I am alone, being real, being true, being wasted and alone. Fuck all of society, fuck every living being beside my sweet pup. We are fine, I'm drunk, he's sleepy and warm, that's it. We don't need you and your pity.. This is life as it is, what it is, good and bad (mostly bad) I don't care, do you? Date and time are nothing more then reference. I'm sick but would be anyway, I'm dying but I always am, I'm nothing but that is who I am. I miss everything but who doesn't? life is a joke as it always is but it is not seasonal. Maybe the care is seasonal but that's as far as it goes. This American holiday means nothing. I give to the poor and pathetic though I am one of them receiving nothing.. Not in a bitter way, but seriously, I need help, I need hope too. Hope, that's what drives us all, dreams and wants, I am losing them all. A good night to me is to fall asleep lacking of all the stresses of my problems, to let them wait until tomorrow, even literally, to just get by, that's it.  I ask for so little but get nothing. Hate me, hate my fight, call me what you will as I try hard, fight on, love live and be a great man to the world, it doesn't matter if I am smart or deviant, it only matters when I pay my bills and shut up. That is America, that is what we are meant for. I am not meant for anything. I am a fool to tobacco and liquor, I am a fool to the drug trade, I am a fool to the working class, I am no one to society. I have a brain, I have independent thought, I have expression. Those are not qualities. but back-draws. I am destined to quit and fail but I refuse. Fucking dammit! I am great, I am something, I think! I am! I am real! Who fucking cares? It doesn't matter. I am still me, always will be, I cannot be broken or change, I will die in a gutter as me before I conform to some bullshit I do not believe in, I hate this world and refuse to become it but strive to achieve the known beauty of it. It is such a twist of intellectualism, poetry and ironic stupidity, I don't know how to accept it or if i even could but I feel a need to keep fighting, there's a reason, a fight, a cause for it. There is a reason for all o us, a reason for passion, loss and nothing, we have something. I can't quit, i certainly cannot hate, i just want to love and be happy....