|Gorgeous, isn't he?|
~ Trent Reznor
Sometimes, the sheer recklessness of what I am prepared to gamble away, and my capacious, if not entirely unlimited, capacity for stupidity and complete delusion, leave me stunned and breathless.
And sometimes, they don't. They should, but they don't.
So then I go and do something completely stupid, as if to ensure that I can never escape my own uselessness. I perpetuate the cycle of my own futility, and take away my breath again.
Because if I am not struggling for each and every goddamn breath, then life is not worth living, is it?
Temerarious. Fucking. Brat.
I watch myself with little interest as I go through these motions. I do not interfere, and I do not change.
But M...he still thinks I can get better.
The simple fact that M continues to stand alongside me at this point is either a great testament to his character and his ability to empathize with the mentally retarded wounded, or a complete validation of my theory that he is a serial masochist, with a penchant for a broken heart.
Either way, I don't deserve him. And he sure as hell doesn't deserve me.
But the fact that he has dug in his heels and has resolutely refused to let me give up, despite how despicable I have been towards him, has allowed a small seed of hope to take root within me. And no matter how hard I tread and stomp and try to pull that goddamn thing out of the ground, I cannot get that tiny bit of hope out of me.
I have no idea what any of this means, or what I am to do with it.
Tomorrow I'll sit down and write out all the dumb shit I did over the past few days, so you have some vague idea where all this noxious guff is spewing from.
|Don't worry, I just wanna lick his neck and snap his suspenders against his nipples, too.|