| It was once said that the alcoholic is the last true hopeless romantic.
Well, here's one to (d)evolution. Anyway, there's something I’ve been
meaning to tell you. . .
I've come to view this as a tireless exercise in the consistency of
futility. What I mean is that this was created in an attempt to ignite
one of the incalculable sparks long since forgotten and I am absolutely
weary of the process. I vent. I rant. I humor. I digress. I fade. To
you, I am a being of brevity. A minor, miniscule malcontent, and if
that's the way it is, then that's the way it is. Acceptance of the
enduring although encumbering facts of life is the key to finding
success no matter where it may lie. Oddly, in the end I don't mind at
all. At least there is a solitary unique element that envelopes the
entirety of my being. Regrettably unique is synonymous with lone, but.
. .I wouldn't quite be myself without that, would I? Charm only
conceals intentions so I’ve got nothing witty to accomplish this ending
because my intention will remain free of beguilement in that sense. To
be stark; this is pointless, fruitless, worthless indulgement in my
personal lack of power. Really the only accomplishment that can be
attributed to this awful aberration of web-waste (wit) is the creation
of fallacies so frequent that they have on more than one occasion
tainted reality.
Lost yet? I hope not because this time, I have no intention of
repeating myself as I have been since the inception of this Xanga. On a
side note, congratulations I’ve you've actually read this far on the
first viewing of this post ( the two or three of you are
troopers). I'll be more mundane from this point. I need meaning. I need
sustenance. Silly things like ideals and hope only deplete my reserves
which are already very fucking low. Blogging all of this shit only
proliferates the agents of my attrition. If you actually know me, you
know what they are. If not, then take your best shot most of it is
quite obvious and quite pathetic. Of course, because of a previously
stated prevalence of inaction I’ll remain to comment and things but for
now (however long that may be) don't expect any updates. If you give a
damn, find out. .
"Don't say your sorry, I’ve heard it far too many times" consider
that quoted for truth and besides that, why elaborate on something that
can be said so simply? I'm sick of excuses when the truth lies within
my personal faults. So don't sugarcoat shit, believe it or not I can
handle harsh reality (not that I’ve ever been a fan of anything
more than my dreams). So I cope, I ride solo, and I'm a bad ass
motherfucker. Believe it or not. Maybe in the end I’ll be able to
reflect and say that I wouldn't have had it any other way, but not now.
Despite that, I’ve already said it. . .if that's the way it is, then
that's the way it is. Wide open throttle. I'm sorry, but I’m gone,
because I’ve got a life to start living and one to stop wishing for. I
guess I’ll see you when you miss me.
sincerely yours,
Expendable.
(There's more to this, of course but I’m done and that's the way it is. Quite impressive for a cripple, huh? )
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Oh Christ, I'm not that desperate
Oh no, oh God, I am |
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| laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame.
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| Quick. Say something interesting!
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| I need to write something worth reading. Oh I also need new music. And new pictures.
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