lastmancandid

I like to know that you are out there, living these dreams vicariously. As much as I attempt to convince myself that I want your life, I could never keep up. I can't help it, the words won't come when I want them to. Instead, they linger and fester in my head until I ruin another friendship before it begins. So this is my new venture, to pour it on pages and hope that the kinks straighten between the blue lines.
I believed this would help, an outlet for nonsense, but once again terribly mistaken is the phrase that pays. Instead, it makes my conversations seem forced and prescripted, because I start thinking about what I wrote. So, once again the solution poses more problems and I can never just follow through on the one choice I could make that would settle it all - shut your fucking mouth - no that would be too easy. That would prove that you had a will of your own, something to hold sacred, something untouched. I've tried, trust me I've tried. It only serves as a temporary reprieve, then I just unload on the few who I know will listen and destroy the last pieces of hope I possess. I do not want them to have to shoulder that burden, my burden.

True enough, it will all come together, but not before you have to listen to more of my shit.