Unless I'm dead or decide not to come...

- I’m not concerned.
- Huh?
- I’m not concerned with what she says.
- What do you mean? Why?
- Why? Because fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck what she says.
- What do you mean, fuck it?
- Here’s the thing. I want to go out with her. You know, the relationship deal. If she’s not down with that, then fuck it. Might as well get it over with as soon as possible if it isn’t going anywhere.
- I guess that makes sense.
- Yeah, I mean I don’t need to prolong the bullshit if nothings happening. Get this over with and get on with the next one.

I just really don’t want to be alone anymore.

* * *

I'm not depressed. It's that life simply seems to pass me by. More of a personal choice to let it and all. As a writer I plan on telling the story of the guy out in the trenches, not actually being that guy. I've only ever been that guy when being that guy was a bad thing. Fuck, huh. But life is passing me by. So much of what I think I want I just let slip by. I don't know what I want. Passion is just so hard for me to fake. And I haven't really cared about something in a long fucking time. Sigh. So I really don't know what comes next. I mean... life, reality, all of that, it don't mean shit on its own. So there's that.

"A moment of silence please for those who never get the chance. They show up to the party but are never asked to dance." - Streetlight Manifesto, "A Moment of Silence"