Training Myself not to Care

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So what has changed here since last time? Quite frankly, nothing. The audience remains the same.


I've gotten a year older. Supposedly, some would have us believe, a year wiser. I am not a year wiser. I'm a year more jadded, more distraught and more misguided than before. Actually, I crave for how things were more than a year ago. I crave for how they were, two, three or four years ago.

Instead, I sit in my one bedroom apartment day after day, looking out the window, wondering if they will. I wonder what happened to friends past, and why I am so alone. I wonder how I have fallen so god damn far that I don't see how I'm going to be able to get up again. I guess I have to pretend not to care.

There is really nothing keeping me here, but I just don't know where else to go. Love is supposed to be the answer, but the only version of it that I know, if it could have been called that, is the one that can legitimately refute the adage "better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all."

Whatever. My head is so full of confusion, bullshit and sadness that I can't even seem to properly articulate anything worth reading, even for the nobody that were to read it anyway.

I'm out.

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