Some one told me they had an addictive personality the other day.  She explained it as always becoming addicted to stuff, like cigarettes, chocolate etc.  I didn’t really give her much thought thinking to myself that the title of her condition didn’t make much sense anyway.  I would refer to that as someone being obsessive.  I suppose that’d be because it’s how I see myself.  Every wednesday you will find me at the local comic shop feeding my need to masks and capes.  I frequent a number of smokey lounges filled with bored and loud people, only to leave more depressed then when I arrived.  I appreciate music to the maximum extent when I’m under the influence of pot, but when the rides over I’ll forget about the song. 

    I recently said goodbye to a friend, and that’s all he was ever going to be.  But the idea, the possibility, that I could change the tide, alter the probabilities, was such a high that I didn’t mind feeling constantly beat up by the situation.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying my emotions weren’t genuine, and I’m not saying that I didn’t have true feelings for him, because I did.  But I know what kept me hanging on, what allowed me to open myself up to that kind of emotional vomit, was the desire to create a future that was once deemed impossible.

    The results of this all have been varied. I lost a Led Zeppelin hoody, but gained an understanding with my parents.  I lost my forever long streak of nun like behavior and found my knack for song writing again.  I realized that religion is something I am going to have to deal with soon and it’s not something anyone knows how to discuss rationally.  I’ve learned that most people who are ignorant think your just as ignorant (or naiveve).  I lost my heart, but it will grow back, it always does.  I gained an appreciation for buddy holly style glasses and I was reminded of how warm someonelse’s arms can be.

    I don’t regret anything I’ve done in the past 2 months, except for not kissing during the goodbye.  I’m terrified about what’s going to happen now.  The worst thing is for nothing to happen.  And even more terrifying is that I haven’t cried yet.  I held it back a few times already, but I haven’t let loose.  I guess I just don’t understand this whole ordeal of loving someone who will love you back.  That’s not how it works.  I’ve never choosen someone to fall in love with, I’ve just become attracted to and wanted to express myself to these individuals.  I have a picture of him in my desk, I can’t decide if I should take it down or not.  And I really don’t mind loosing my Zeppelin hoody, because he can wear it and think of me.  Thanks for everything, that was fun.


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