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Purposeless floating. Lifelessness continues.

"Just give it some time" is not an option anymore, and when you don't value what you have, you have nothing. You are a robot. You are full of movement, and you take care of your responsibilities like everyone wants you to, but there is nothing at the core.

Surviving.
I mean, that's what everyone wants me to do. For what though? I am surviving only to eventually die? I am surviving only to eventually move in to a nursing home? What am I surviving for? Death is certain. I am miserable. Everyday. It's a struggle. I try, and I put on my pretty people face and I put on my trendy clothes and I walk and I work and I buy things. I pay my taxes, I recycle. I live as far as I can.

Contradiction.
I think the only time I am truly happy is probably when I'm sleeping. Though I never feel it and I don't remember my dreams

pile of (a) thought

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People will often tell you to think happy thoughts. Try to think positive, happy. Be happy.

That's the problem. I don't have any happy, positive thoughts. The little glimmer of hope that's stashed away in the back is usually overpowered by the negative. And when I do have hope, it's just one big false advertisement. Because I know what tomorrow will bring. I know that I always revert back. Something is comforting in this depressive state.

Something that never was

His spine glistens in the harsh neon glow of the television set; the flickering light illuminating the contours of his face. Is it sadness or excitement that lingers beyond the edge of his irises? Resting in my arms I try to shelter him from a world that has already done too much damage. But am I strong enough? Does he even need me? Do I need him? I long to be his utter enthrallment in another human being and resolve to love him no matter the cost.

He is perfect, but not up close and no matter how much he reassures me, I know he does not love me…not like I love him. I fight the urge to touch him but he is magnetic. Rubbing his hair, my fingers at the back of his neck; he giggles at my frantic groping and shifts casually out of my reach. I know I make him uncomfortable…I am too intense.

Sleeping alone I dream of his soft body; my hands gliding down its entirety without hesitation. I awaken to sticky underwear, a dull aching between my legs, and a hollow feeling in my ribcage as I try to ignore the fact that my love is hardly symbiotic…much more parasitic if I’m honest with myself. He vacuums up my soul with those lips; those lips that could suck the cum out of a 747.

He never answers his phone when I need him. Always the incessant ringing, a click, and then that patronizingly pleasant voice promising to call me back if I leave a message. But he doesn’t. Somehow I can never be mad because he is full of wonder (a breathtaking exquisiteness). Distracting myself with other people only reminds me of him. A sharp pain which starts deep within my left breast cuts it’s way down to my cunt where it turns into an unbearable longing. Subsiding only momentarily with random fucks and shitty masturbation because he is forever in the forefront of my mind holding back my true ecstasy.

He is elegant in the morning with his tousled hair and glasses; a smile thats not quite a smile until mid afternoon when he really wakes up. In those hours of dawn his face is so sweet and soft…distressed and confused. I want to hold and comfort him but I know I would only ruin it and he would pull away; because he only loves me when he’s drunk (in the cover and darkness of night), or when there is someone to watch…to make jealous. He desires to be wanted and I cannot begrudge him that. I inhale his skin deep into my sinuses as I realize, love will never be the same without him.

I'm scared of marriage, white picket fences, dogs named Rusty, and joint bank accounts. 

I can taste the acid on my tongue sometimes. Every time actually, every time you open your mouth. That perfect mouth, with those lips that could tear words right out of my heart. 

I can taste your delight. Your colors. Your smile, that smile that I have grown to avoid for fear of melting into hands too cold to carry me. 

Manipulation, you can work it so easy. 

*insert picture with hat*

Designer eye bags in tact. 

We are all robots. Possibly, slightly confused. I am incapable of letting anyone get close. Well, let’s rephrase that.  I am capable, Just wary.  Most of these declarations of ‘love’ are phony. Silly things. Silly people. What to believe? Who? When is the right time? Even if I feel it, doesn't mean their words are true.

Time for lyric of the moment. Brought to you in part by “Sunshine” By DJ Sava ft. Raluka

When people have no hopes & dreams | fuck everybody let’s get high | the sun will shine.

Here’s where Photoshop ruins me :