Citizen, hey, what you worried about? Are yr relationships smothered with doubt? 'cause yr libido says "could be the one". They're not the one. I fucking love my friends I don't fancy, who don't fancy me either. It's the platonic ideal. Never gets antsy, won't get above or beneath them. I think that we're equals. All my friends have benefits; that's kinda what makes them friends. Cherish the friends you don't fancy, and remain just friends. Just. The adjective, 'just'. Like 'justified'. Please tell me you get this. Just friends.

So sad. I need to stop being so sad. I need to stop. Being's so sad. I need to stop being. I need to stop being.

I thought better of you, but not for a reason. I thought better of you: Citation needed. Where's my unbiased source? I bought it; now's remorse. Fact of the matter's the matter's a matter of course, of course. I thought better of you, though now I repeat it. I thought better of you, but not for a reason. I thought better of you; tried this believing. I thought better of you. Citation needed.

If I were less self-absorbed, I'd need someone else to go ahead and absorb all this surplus self spilling out. Anybody know a sponge? While all the less self-absorbed spend time lashing out, I'll lash inwards, my eyelids freaking out for the count. Gotta admit it's cringe. If I were less self-absorbed I'd be much less dense, Without the hypermetatextual ingredients, Not so repellant, but more developed.

Can't you see yr actions' effect? All our prior sanctions are wrecked, by what you do, in what you choose to do. Time to plead a casual defence? Try a Captain Asoh respect. An asshole's view would not become you, so don't become one. I hope you're ignorant, 'cause if you're not, you're cruel, and if you're cruel, then claiming well-intended ignorance won't do. I hope you're ignorant, 'cause if you knew, then claiming good intent won't do. Please plead ignorance, so you can learn. It's fool proof, and fools ain't cruel, so we can reconcile you.

I loved it, so I let it go, and now it's gone. Damn the expression.

I need to put on weight atop my sad ribcage I need to lay it flat My needs? Too late for that, see My weighted blanket won't crush me entirely yet I'd like to thank it for sincerely trying Not satisfied with this weighted blanket, Why did I buy me a weighted blanket? My serotonin deficiency, crank it. Maybe I need another fifty weighted blankets.

Self-interest is hard to come up with. I'll invest my love in the others. They're more deserving, see: They're crucially not me. It's intellectually self-destructive.

I worry 'cause it kills my time. I worry 'cause it fills my mind. I hurry to reanalyse. My worry has internal rhyme. It's something to do when you won't answer. It's sentiment you specifically asked for. It's probably useless, fruitless, pointless, and makes me a doofus. Who'll anoint this? I worry 'cause it's worrisome. I scurry for the solution. I worry like I'm still involved. I worry for the unresolved you forgot. I guess that I have chosen stress. It complements this loneliness. I worry and it doesn't help. I should accept irrelevance.

The past is full of trauma; the future's full of pain. The present isn't pleasant but it's where we must remain. We try to disassociate so time is occupied, but time is money and we're spent, embarrassed that we tried.

You should be nice to me. I react sincerely. I'm always nice to you. It's the nice thing to do. It's the nice thing to be. You should be nicer than you are to me. Nicer than you are to me... Don't I sound really worth it? Almost human. Swear that I maybe deserve it. Niceness doing. Treat me with courtesy, for I speak earnestly. Can't you be slightly nice to me? Consider it: being considerate.

I said "well, earn it". You heard "we'll earn it". This one's on you. Come earn yr dues, and meet yr onus. Get it in focus. Yr magnum modus, yr one rescue. Nobody's here to hear the blame, Just to entrust, elucidate, So we won't need to fear this pain again. To reinterpret, let's say "we'll earn it".

I know that I'm unbearable. Of course I know; I'm me.

Maybe I'm done with having experiences. They're only worth enduring in theory, and then. You get caught up in all these feelings and shit. Maybe I'm done with having experiences. Something is happening and I just want to die. Something enveloping that racks your bastard mind. Being so curious for sensation presupposes being able to take it. Maybe I'm done with having experiences. Maybe you doubt my sentiment's seriousness? Or did I invent somebody querying this? Just to continue having experiences. There's nothing worse in life than experiences.

I'm not here to say you'll rely on and then not rely on. That attitude summons my kindness only for denial. I'm not here to only come crying to when you're pried in two but if you will remain inclined to, seems I'll oblige you. and/'cause I'll fall for it. Take my role, ineffectual spectator, Through the awful shit going on, at least grasp the hand for which you asked. Keep the spare key. Just spare me. Still tapdancing on tenterhooks, still in this mental noose. Still indulging the sentiments within resentment. yes I'll fall for it, as we know, intellectual stagnation in the traumatic making-of, with the patience of a waiter.

The saint of what ain't. The passion of absence. The priest with the least. A holistic abstinence.

Looks like I'm losing another evening to yr stupid judgement of me because I care about what you think, which sure seems to be more than you'll offer to me, and yeah, it: So I suppose I will change my behaviour, or at least endeavour to. Maybe you could take a cue, else take a pew, until then:

Not here for a long time, Not here for a good time. Not adherent to time. Not even sure we're here.

I keep my diary blank, I keep my blood in a bank, I keep myself here to thank. Forever waiting on you and what you may wanna do. I think I'm havering through. I think I haver. I think I haver for you, for what you may wanna do, And if I waver I lose. That's in your favour. I think I paper the truth. Unfit to savour or prove, Live as a neighbouring stooge. I think I haver. I think I may wanna do without the havering ruse, but there's no better excuse and so I haver. I haver alive, I hate being alive. And when I haver, well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be sad.

Narrative coherence is a luxury. Need the story straight? Be on my Patreon. You unfold like a daily soap, twice as slippery, vice and frippery. Think we missed an episode, catch the omnibus if you're ponderous. Next stop overrides the last. Seeing oversights amass. Plot holes all along this road. Overlook the overload. Can't you oversee this continuity? Narrative coherence is a luxury.

Colinderella just can't stay out tonight. A cerebellum stuffed full of sound and the light. The gig is over, and the jig is up. I think we're sobering, thus abruption. Colinderella won't show for months again, So if you wanna retain a valued friend, Then break the habit that you inhabit, Meet me in the place we're less inhibited. Colinderella just can't stay out tonight, so can we navigate toward less desperate times?

How can you be so certain, when you were certain before? What hides behind life's curtains, what lies beyond time's door. I see the entropy, what's meant to be is not. But you use the simple future, When you do, you make me tense. With your views on resolution, You'll use the simple future. You'll have made the future perfect. But that future's only in your head. You use the future simple. Then consequences shuffle your events. You make me tense.

More red flags than Chinatown, hits you up to take you down, takes you up to hit you down, bodies on appeal. But he's an appealing investor, dreaming up your dreamy molester, rather have a groom than stable boy grooming your ideal. It's the violence of yr boyfriend, each time that you annoy him. He wouldn't dream of therapy. He's gonna do it again. We try and understand him. We pile upon the problem. Sad to see the seducee. He's gonna do it again: The violence of yr boyfriend each time that you are near him. Apology and Q.E.D., He's gonna do it again: The violence.