Most of my blogs here are poetry, but I’ve not slep much, and a bit odd, from lack of sleep so bear with me

I have reached the stage of lack of sleep where I am no longer tired, and, may actually be hallucinating. Weee.

This is not really as fun as it sounds.

I feel a bit annoyed by the world. As in totally upset with how it seems to work. Treat people like crap, lie, fake faith, and get ahead. Actually, caring about people is both passé and clichéd. Yet here I am, my heart breaking over the hurt of another friends hurts, and her being abused. It’s not like she wasn’t someone I was dating, or even new in person, just someone I know online, and yet I do give a damn about her and what happens.

Maybe I’m too soft hearted, because I actually care about the people I know online and off. Maybe I’m flawed at the source, because of romantic notions of love, caring, compassion–and thinking those things, well, matter.

Because the world continually shows me, they don’t. Over and over again. Love is faked, lied about, and people have expectations that are unrealistic. I know I do–I expect/want to be loved, for who I am. Not for who I can change to be, but the person who cares for others, loves his dog, treats others with respect (mostly), and kindness. Someone who is imaginative, and open to new ideas, and tries very hard not to pass judgment on others just because they are different–because they have different beliefs, religious or political, they’ve different sexual desires, or intellectual levels, or whatever difference separates us. There should be a bridge between all of us–of compassion, empathy, and kindness; So where did it go? And why am I the only one who feels this way.

My friends (mid to late 20’s) encourage me (34) to do drugs or drink (never mind I’ve no interest in that crap and never had), they encourage me to seek out prostitutes at times–like getting off would make a difference to how I feel somehow. I don’t understand, am I really so different, do I work so differently than every other person?

It’s not that I don’t like sex, but I’ve always preferred it as a part of a relationship, where it could be shared between both bodies and hearts, and where it didn’t just happen once.

I don’t need alcohol, or drugs to relax, or have fun. So I don’t get it. Why does the world around me use them so much? What’s wrong with ME, that makes ME, think its bogus, and worthless pursuits?

At the moment I’m ranting semi deliriously so pardon that if I make no sense. I think I’m making some sense, but I could be delusional heh.

I worked hard when I worked, and I don’t know I’ll work again. I just don’t take the stress of such things as well as I used to, and despite wanting to so badly at times. I do have things to do, like writing, and art which I hope to one day make money from. Maybe not a conventional job, but at least I can mostly handle those stresses, without other people pressuring me.


There are place I go online, I’ve been a member of the “communities” of for sometime, yet I often feel, completely invisible. Maybe I’m not controversial enough, maybe I’m not obnoxious enough. I don’t know. I’m generally tired of it all. Every place, everything in this world, except a few brief moments of gaming bores me to tears. I used to devour books like most people would M&M’s, but now days I find so much retread, retold, un inspiring, that it bothers me. I don’t want to be so cynical to such creative works, but I just want that joy back. The joy taken away from me by what that idiotic person did to me years ago. I wish I could erase every moment of her from my memory. There are times I wish I could erase ever having met her at all. Frustrating that because of what she did, I’m now haunted by memories, painful, memories of all my exes. I don’t listen to music very often because it triggers lows I can’t deal with, lows that make me want to hurt myself. I do try from time to time, and a song or two I might manage, but most of the time its just too much.

So here I sit, without sleep, with nothing to do but reread old books, or rewatch old shows I still can manage to enjoy. Very little new shows/books catch my interest.

I still buy games, and play them but my attention span and focus isn’t nearly what it used to be. and no matter how good I might feel one day, that still hasn’t come back.

I’m tired of being sent mixed signals, I’m tired of being treated like a second class citizen because of this illness I have, of not being important enough or wealthy enough, or perfect enough for some other peoples ideals.

So what choice to I have but to give up someday and die?
No matter how hard I’ve worked, I’ve only regained maybe 10% of who I used to be. And the barriers that keep me from getting back the rest, may always be there. I don’t know. I can’t tell, I don’t know what might one day break them down.

But it doesn’t matter really. Because why bother breaking them down? What point is there? To fit other peoples molds of who I should be, and how I should act, which I NEVER did to begin with?

I cared to much then, soft hearted as I am. Its frustrating. Why can’t I just be ME?

Why does the world make it so damnably hard to just be, me, and why can’t I for once, just once get what I want and have what I need?

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