trying to kiss her i bloodied my nose

i wish i were a better writer. i am very unimaginative. i fall back on the same few expressions and create nothing new of my own. i'm looking at the title of this post, and marveling at how beautiful that is, and wishing i had somehow been able to come up with that.

because my writing will never reach anyone. it's insipid, emotional, entirely obsessed with itself. there is no elegance, no class. a blunt instrument of literary cliches and bad grammar. endless (goodness i had spelt 'endless' wrong the first time around) allusions to the same few things that no one else cares about. stripped bare of the subtlety of language, ignoring all the beauty of words.

i'm entirely unconvinced by what i write, so why should anyone else be? it's so full of oblique prods at what is the heart of the matter, but none of the substance that gets at what i actually mean. an exercise in circumlocution that only manages to confound even myself. i went back and found something like 2 honest posts. the rest was editorialized bullshit, including so much that has been written in the past month. yes i'm devastated, but is this the best that i can do?

how about the honest truth? why am i depressed? it's because of a girl. people always say that men have only 2 big problems in life: money and women. so yes, firmly the latter. forget what i have said about how this one thing merely exposed the frailties of my life. if i were a better person it wouldn't have, but here it is and it's hit me like a ton of bricks (look, another cliche! my goodness!).

the problem is that i can't handle rejection. but that's not quite right either, because rejection i have taken into account. i can't handle jealousy. never could, probably never would. and the worst part is how i've poured out so much of this, and still i feel unwell. catharsis is the biggest crock of shit that greeks have ever given us. i don't fucking care how else i could see this situation, and how everything has happened before. it's about me, and i'm acting up. what am i to do?

i try to hate her. clearly. what else am i to do? i can't forget someone who's so near, so i do the next best thing. i try to obliterate every single fond memory with paranoia and doubt. "she was never really my friend!", "all she wanted to do was use me!". but i can't do it. it's not possible. how do you turn someone who, over the past year or so have subconsciously evolved into a near-perfect companion, into a stranger?

saying that makes me feel like throwing up. what the hell has happened to me? i don't believe in all this nonsense. people come and go, they are fickle and mutable and not to be trusted. that's me, that's who i am and what i believe. how did i let this happen?

there are so many reasons why i should doubt what i feel. perhaps this is merely a warped interpretation of courtly love, and i've built a pedestal so high that i'm content merely to look upon it, and her, and wallow in the unattainability. i should be heaving to knock that pedestal down.

but even as i write that i realize how ludicrous that is. there is no pedestal. it's just two people, and past experiences. you feel and it's merely interpretations of memories. and so is it like it frequently is, that i am misinterpreting? no that's not what it is either. these feelings are mine, and i am entitled to feel what i feel.

unless of course i'm not. i've been told that i can't feel what i feel. she told me i was wrong. well prove it. convince me. i am not satisfied. use those painful words like i am someone who matters, not merely someone to placate. i am real, and here i am. do your worst! crush me so i can't stand back up. make me a stranger so i can make you one as well. nothing less will suffice to put me out of my misery.

i hate this self-destruction. i'm sick of myself, physically sick. i can't stomach that there is still that glimmer of hope. that stupid wilco song that goes "remember to remember me, standing still in your past". the past is too late. i prefer not to be remembered as this person now. i have given what little i have and that is all. i'm tired now, of having to pretend, of having to talk around the situation.

how do you approach feelings you can't understand? in my depression over the past few weeks i tried willing myself to cry, to shed just one tear. i was unable. it's that shock that comes and pushes you into a deep deep hole; i cannot even will my emotions to catch up. and every single second of time i've spent with her in the past 3 weeks must have been some mistake. oh friends come stop me. tell me how stupid i am. i cannot spend another second with her. i'm falling harder and faster than ever before. help.

desperate measures have to be taken. like i have said before, this place is not too small for me to disappear. i have a knack for burning bridges, and though this is built with materials that are less conducive, i will try nonetheless. gotta get her out of my dreams, literally. i'm bad with faces, and it can't take too long before she fades into the crowd.

oh, what the hell! life is so hard sometimes. damn it.