we are all creatures of habit.

i was doing really well until the sun went down and the pay per minute switched to unlimited nights. i was still doing well until i got out of my closing shift to first cut, finding myself at 8pm with nothing to do for the majority of the evening. i was just ok when i went over to their house for dinner. i was hanging on when i checked the messages and knew i needed to make a cameo at the pub again. i was dillusionally fine after the beer and the impending triangle of lust/doom. i was bitter when i looked at my phone to see no "missed call", but felt safe during the first half of the movie.

i wasn't ok when i realized this wasn't so safe at all.

fuck it- you know what?

all of this shit may make for good stories and good drama and may serve as muse and inspiration for wistful and longing poetry and lyrics that everyone fucking knows i'll never be confident enough to sing... but IT'S JUST NOT ENOUGH.

the first day in three months.

i'm still alive, yes. still functional. more so, even. do i just miss him because of the habit? the comfort? am i going through withdrawal?

do you need to rebound from an imaginary boyfriend?

pushing away, quite literally, the man of your dreams... i never thought i'd actually have to do that shit.

so unhealthy. so retarded. and for what? for fingers never felt, lips never kissed, sex never smelled, time never spent, memories never made and promises never kept?

why am i constantly denied the reality of this love that i dream?

some say it doesn't exist. others swear by it. but i don't want a third opinion. i don't even want my opinion on it.

i just want his.

maybe i thought that i couldn't give up all of this trivial crap i managed to get sick of again ALL IN ONE PIG FUCK of a day.

i don't want this back. but i don't want what i had with him back. i don't want to fall into my same old habits again just because they are there and i'm so brilliantly good at them.

i don't want to go back to the waiting. the crying. the needing.

but you know what's the worst part of it all, my loves? what makes me feel so helpless?

no matter what choice i make... that shit is still gonna be there.