Some things need temporary fixes.
Some people act as temporary fixes.
In a perfect world no person would be regarded as a “fix” nor “temporary” by anyone.
I should hold myself to a higher regard. I should try not to take advantage of women.
Does is count if it’s not intentional?
Am I a liar if I tell someone I’m interested when the more accurate term…might be “bored”?
Even if I never actually tell them a thing…implying is just as messed up. Isn’t it?
Am I an even bigger asshole writing this blog considering it’s the ones I’m the least interested in…that pay the most attention?
The saddest part is I can relate to them. Wanting something that doesn’t really want you back. At least not in the same way. But how do you tell somebody that? “I feel your pain, I was in your shoes…just not about you.”
Yeah. I’m an asshole.
This is why I avoid these situations. The more I stay locked away in my artistic cave the less I have to deal with being sergeant scumbag.
I shouldn’t even be writing right now. I’m supposed to be asleep. Another early ass buttcrack day and here I am still up…and blogging! My brain has the most inconvenient timing. Maybe this is my guilty conscience…not my brain.
Oh and something really amazing happened recently. Or somebody amazing…it seems, maybe…we’ll see…But that’s all I will say…for the minute.
Anyhow…back to this other crapola…
Women know. We know when someone is all there…when someone is present and into them. I’d like to think I do. So I assume that…they…do, too.
“Where are you?” she asked. Funny….the one before you asked me the same thing.
Not here…somewhere else…
Something extraordinary reached inside my chest, ripped out my heart and was holding it hostage. I’m still trying to sew it all back together.
Life would be so much simpler if I could just fall…..for one of them…any of them. For even a day, if I could feel something some how…some way…for someone besides the one I can’t allow in my head.
But…I…am NOT a “simple” woman.
Thank god Jen is in town, cuz I could not deal with this ish on my own. Why did this “stuff” have to follow me to NY. Argghh. I’m not in the mood.
The most fucked up part of popping pills in the form of women…
Is when they know just how temporary a fix they are.
And still they come back.
So really, am I to blame?