my burning soul and the only one who satisfies it

I can rationalize the shit out of a paper bag. Anything and everything in my life. I can rationalize all the moves I make, as well as, all the moves I choose not to make. But you, and your absence from my life, is something that I cannot rationalize. It's something that I cannot find much reason for. The idea is ridiculous and borderline insane in my mind. It doesn't make sense to me. It doesn't feel right to me. You feel right to me, in a way that nothing else does. And I go from day to day alternating between wishing I had never met you to thanking some god I don't even believe in that I did. But none of it matters, because you are just a ghost in the hollows of all my dark mistakes. You are just a ghost. Everyday you are fading further into the abyss. Everyday you drift further out of my reach. Everyday the harsh reality of this cuts like a blade through my ventricles. And with all the blood loss, and the subsidence of the beating of my heart, running after your ghost has become nearly more than I can handle. Just know, it was always going to be you.

6 billion people OR who I'd reeeeally like to meet OR the science of selling myself short

The title possibilities for this one were seemingly endless. The content has been running through my mind, through my bones, for a week now. For some unknown reason I couldn't bring myself to write it out. Hell I still don't know if I'll be able to. Fuck it. I can't. Or i guess I can, but I'm going to choose not to. I'm going to choose not to put myself through the process of once again sifting through the list of traits that I will continuously settle for doing without. I'm not in some fairytale land. This is the real world. The real world is ignorant. The real world will never understand me when I speak to it. The real world will mistreat me. The real world will never know what it wants. The real world will never take responsibility for its actions. The real world will always be in the palms of my hands. My hands will always hand out chance after chance to the real world. Those very same hands will ultimately toss that world into the trash because if this is the real world and if this is all I have then I would much rather have nothing. I am not in it for some second rate happiness. I am not a settler. I am not a cop-out. I am stronger than most. I am not alone. My loneliness is something I choose for myself daily. I am admitting it, but it is only because it seems better than surrounding myself with such carelessness.

I need a cool shower.
I need a warm glass of tequila.
I need sufjan stevens' angelic voice.
I need apathy.