Lights. Camera. Fraction.

That's the thing about friends.

They're there, and they're not.

You're connected to them either via obligation or desire, both stemming from fulfilling social and emotional requirements in order to be deemed "normal". They set aside the traits in you that they disagree with, you do likewise with them, and you all go out to have the best time that's possible. To collect memories. In hopes that one day they all outweigh the bad memories and their value over time has accrued to a point of priceless bonds.

But what do you do if you're never truly invested? What do you do when you want so badly to be, but you just lack the wires to connect to the current? What do you do when you've been faking the motions for so long that no one even notices?

How do you tell your friends that you have no idea what a real friend is?

Where do you go when everyone you've ever known - from the fundamental foundations of your own parents to the furthest reaches of your emotional capacity, your loves - have all betrayed, lied and abandoned you at some point, and you don't trust a single person?

I'm not here.

I'm never here.

I'm just someone reading a script I've rehearsed a thousand times before I walked onstage. Reading lines to props in the background.

The stage is my home, and the play is exhausting.

But she was my greenroom.

Change Your Mind.

Not For Sale.

"So what is this all about?"

What is what all about.

"This.[points] Why do you do all of this?" [spins finger]

Why do I do... all of me?

"Your long hair. The way you dress down. The beard. Being quiet, like you don't care. Acting like you don't like kids. Acting cynical. Acting like you like being alone. Just... acting." 

[keeps looking up at the stars]

"Is just camouflage to hide among everyone until a girl worth your time tries to tame you?

 Waiting for one to figure you out? So she sees the real you behind this mess 

you're trying to sell everyone that you are?"

[smirks, smokes cigarette]

"I just want you to know, Neil: I don't buy it."

You couldn't afford it.

Will the circle be unbroken.

And I can't help but try to find you

in every new mistake,

only to find that each one I make

leaves me further and further away.

440am

i miss my "good girl."

A Is For Rebel

Wish you were here.

Chain Reaction

All right.

Tomorrow night, November 19th.

Let's do this.

.beep.

hi. you have reached the voicemail of...

i punch the wall and wait for the tone.

beep.

...i just called to say, calling you will never be enough. im drunk at 3am and i still feel you. god, do i feel you. you are the cracks in my tired bones. the whiskey my marrow cant stand. my darling, dont you know, it was easy to love you more than i could ever love myself. now im sitting in this bedroom-turned-confessional, cold turkey since devouring the last drop of you. I just woke up, drenched in sweat from a dream that i was being buried alive, and you were shoveling the words, "i love you but im not ready for forever yet" onto my trembling body, and soiling the hopes that youll ever come back to me. i guess what im trying to say is...

beep. press 3 if youd like to delete this message and record a new one.

...

3.

...i just hope youre happy.

Storybook

Let's run away,

I'll keep you safe.

If you're feeling brave, dear,

I'll let you stay here.

Just be my princess,

I'll be your white knight.

Our kiss will start this

Once upon a time,

If you'll run away.

(She never heard the final version of our song.)

(Because, ironically, she ran away.)

(I wonder how many other white knights she's fucked since.)

(God damn foxes.)

There's a limit.

"I'll just make sure when I wash our clothes that I don't mix the dedicates."

"You... do realize I can wash my own clothes, right?"

"Hold on. You know how to run a washing machine?"

"And a dryer."

"What."

"And fold them and put them away. And I wash, dry and put away dishes, too. And vacuum. And clean. And keep the bathroom in order. And cook if there's a book. I could even sew up that tear in your skirt right there - since it's along the seam."

"Holy crap, Neil... can you hem??"

"Hokay, I'm not gay."

Stonehenge.

sometimes i wonder what my other fox is doing.

and i quickly realize i probably really, really dont.

so ill just continue to write songs instead.

at the park.

where she broke the record.

The Flood.

"I don't think I ever wanted to be 'The man who loves children.' But from the moment they’re born, that baby comes out and you act proud, and excited, hand out cigars. But you don’t feel anything. Especially if you had a difficult childhood. You want to love them but you... don’t. And the fact that you’re faking that feeling makes you wonder if your own father had the same problem.

"Then one day they get older, and you see them do something. And you feel that feeling that you were pretending to have. 

"And it feels like your heart is going to explode."

- Don Draper

Within The Ceaseless Grip of Trying

As long as there is one upright man, as long as there is one compassionate woman, the contagion may spread and the scene is not desolate. Hope is the thing that is left to us, in a bad time. I shall get up Sunday morning and wind the clock, as a contribution to order and steadfastness.

Sailors have an expression about the weather: They say the weather is a great bluffer. I suppose the same is true of our human society - things can look dark, and then a break shows in the clouds, and all is changed, sometimes rather suddenly. It is quite obvious that the human race has made a queer mess of life on this planet. But as people we probably harbor seeds of goodness that have lain for a long time waiting to sprout when the conditions are right. Man's curiosity, his relentlessness, his inventiveness, his ingenuity have led him into deep trouble. We can only hope that these same traits will enable him to claw his way out.

Hang on to your hat. Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.

#305

"choke me," she'd say,

her blonde hair matted brown

from the sweat

of summer and sin.

mouths mashed against each others,

my grip closing around her 

perfect,

silk,

white,

pulsing throat,

her eyes suddenly fluttered in rhythm 

with her belly, quivering beneath mine.

the embers smoldered within,

the fire roared,

and we drenched her white sheets in our love.

and in between the tempo of our breaths,

beating in unison against the carnal silence,

she exhaled only a single word.

"more."

The Best.

The phone chimed that morning. Woke me up.

But I already knew what it was.

I didn't need to be told.

* * * * * 

The evening prior I drove to my parent's house to celebrate my cousin's birthday. After the obligatory meet and greet, I asked where Lily, my little sister's dog of 8 years, was. She's in the bathroom on the floor, they said. Scrunching my face, I headed to the back of the house and down the dark hallway.

Turning the light on, there she was. Unmoving, all except for her glassy black eye, which squinted and looked at me from the side. Just vague interest in my presence, nothing more. No barking or yelping. I walked in and crouched over her, reaching down to pet her where she's always liked it; around the ears, and under the chin. Her skin felt hard and there were lumps hidden under the fur. She took a deep breath and groaned out. The only movement was a weak attempt at a flinch when I'd pet her nose, as if it hurt to the touch.

"The hell," I said, as I walked back into the living room.

They didn't know what was wrong specifically, but she'd been in pain for about a year now. Limping. Lack of energy. Slowing down. Not as playful. Couple of surgeries to remove a tumor. The last few weeks she hadn't even been eating, relying on I.V. treatments for nourishment. The tests were apparently coming back tomorrow.

But I knew. We all did. No one needed to be told.

* * * * * 

Lily was a crazy playful dog. She never once bit or snapped or growled or... anything a dog normally does. Ever. Her entire life. The only time she opened her mouth was to hold a tennis ball, eat food, or bark as she blindly chased water. She didn't walk; she pranced. And she didn't run; she bounced, with her long fur coat bouncing along with her. She never over-zealously licked your face, never overstayed her welcome, never woke you up with noises, and never destroyed furniture. She somehow knew when it was okay to hop up on the bed and lay next to you to comfort you... and when to just stay on the floor to protect you.

She never needed to be told.

* * * * *

So we drove the quiet drive to the animal hospital. Lindsey held her the whole way there. Inside, we waited and were finally called. My father, mother and sister and I circled around Lily, lying on the table barely breathing, and cried. We pet her in silence, all lost in our own thoughts.

When the door opened and the time came, my sister realized she couldn't watch what had t happen and left with my father. The doctor asked if we were ready. No one said a word. Because, really, how do you say "yes" to that.

I was in charge of holding Lily as the doctor pushed the needle in. Unlike Jag, my cat, Lily wasn't spastic. There was no jerking around. No scuffle. No fight. No frantic movements of confusion or resistance. Five full seconds in, she softly raised her head, feeling the new sensation flowing inside of her.

And then, just as peacefully... she slowly laid her head down. As if she was simply... deciding to sleep.

I held her closer, feeling her one last breath fill her boney little body; a deep and relaxing one.

And I felt her let go.

No one in the room moved for quite a while - neither my mother sitting on a stool by the wall, or me hugging Lily. I think we were secretly waiting for her to bark and pop up, hearing the jingle of her collar, and her tail to whap against the metal table, the first animal ever in history to miraculously come back from aggressive Mesothelioma, sparking a newfound faith in a God worldwide.

But it didn't happen. Just the sound of the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights and sniffling around the room. A soft press of the stethoscope against fur, and the veterinarian nodded to confirm what we didn't need to be told: We no longer had our Lily.

There was no more wheezing. No more groaning. No more of those helpless looks with her eyes turned up because she was too weak to move her own head. None of that. I looked down and, for the first time in a long time, I saw something different.

She looked just as I had always known her: 

Perfect. 

And at peace.

That night, we left her the way she lived.

Perfect.

And at peace.

Say hi to Jag for me, girl. 

- HKR

She said.

The little things.

Sometimes things happen for reasons you're never allowed to understand.

You can guess all you want, but forces beyond your influence will never enlighten you.

The curse of the unknown and unfinished can be a heavy, heavy monster.

Sometimes it's best to let it go free.

Sometimes it's best to kill it and consume it.

Sometimes it's best to tame it and keep it around for companionship.

But you should never, ever feed it.

And one day it will die, withered from time and nostalgia, wheezing on the ground of memory.

And you'll drop the chain.

Because sometimes...

...things happen for reasons you're never allowed to understand. 

Flawed and Ruined

Old love letters are like maps to treasures that no longer exist

Ex marks the spot.

                                                                 Back in the cage.

So Much For The Afterglow

I sat down on the same spot where she fucked him; the same bed where we created love on so many nights.

I haven't seen her in two years and catching up with her now just isn't the same. Why am I here? She was supposed to be out of my life once and for all, all those years ago. After what she did, after everything. I am here once again and I don't know why.

I sit up on the bed and she comes closer to me and tells me, "I am sorry, I regret it all, I don't deserve anything. I am a fucking slut and I wish I could take it all back." I've been waiting for this moment almost every day and now that I finally heard those words I nearly collapse and cried inside. She comes even closer and kisses me long and deeply.

Our clothes are off and I fucked the hate I've stored up all these years. She swallows my poison and lights a cigarette. I buried my face in my hands and realized: That was the only time we had sex and didn't make love. She used my hurt as lubrication and fucked my heart. I heard her ex laughing in the background. He still haughts everything I touch. God, tell me the reason for it all.

She looks over at me and says "Don't cry now, it's all okay now. You forgive me, right?"

I stood up and got my clothes and left, and never cried again a day in my life.

The Other Side Of The Equation

I realize now that the hardest part in finding someone isn't trying find a person that has the things you're looking for.

It's finding a person that appreciates the things in you that you enjoy being appreciated.

One of the things I miss the most about my ex (and a few other select relationships) is when she would share with me a moment or aspect of who I was that she adored - one that I had never even thought about before. One time it was how expressive my eyes can be. Another time it was my broad shoulders. Or how safe she felt sleeping next to me. Sometimes it was my smooth skin. Or how she liked the way I walked, or finished her sentences, or how fast I solved puzzles. And especially the multitude of intimate connections we shared that she promised never to take for granted. She noticed all of the little things that pass over the rest of the world's heads... parents, siblings, co-workers, even best of friends. To a large degree, they're far more invested in their own lives to ever notice and become aware of the nuances that make up who you are as a whole. (After all, how often are you thinking about all of your friends' cute little quirks?)

Even most girlfriend and boyfriend couples only scratch the surface of each other. He'll say she's so pretty, and she'll say he's so strong; He'll say, "Oh, you're so smart," and she'll say, "You're so funny." But that isn't who you are. That isn't the crux of you. We are all comprised of little idiosyncrasies, involuntary subliminal "ticks" that separate us from each other.

You could take 10 men, stand them side by side, and have them all be, say, 5'9" - that's average, right? Now let's say they all make, astoundingly, the exact same amount of money. They all drive the same make and model of car, have the same favorite musical taste, eat the same food, weigh the same amount, are all left-handed, and even share the same political and religious ideologies. Let's even give them the same skin, hair and eye color, too.

Now on paper, they're the same person and therefore, theoretically speaking, should be interchangeable as a potential partner for a woman, right?

But of course we know that isn't even remotely true. There are a combination of tiny differences in each one that individualizes them all from each other.

• How does one guy act when he has the flu and can't get out of bed? 

• Is he grumpy and demeaning? 

• Do one of the others act like a injured puppy in the rain? 

• What about when you sit them all down in front of a computer with awful internet connection? 

• Which one flips the keyboard into the air first? 

• Which one likes kids? 

• Hates kids? 

• Wants to have one or two? 

• Wants to have five? 

• Says he hates kids but actually adores them? 

• How does each one drive in traffic after being cut off four times in a row on the freeway? 

• Which one will remember your birthday with a gift, and which one will remember it with a surprise vacation? 

• And which one will forget altogether? 

• Which one is terrible at oral sex but amazing at everything else? 

• Or vice versa?

And most importantly: Which one will experience you for who you truly, truly are, discover all of the things that you love and hate about yourself, and still love you? Which one will love you for the right things? And call you out on the bad? And let you slide on others because he knows he's not perfect either? Are you okay with someone that will never be capable of comprehending 100% of your hidden, untapped nature? Will you settle for something "easier" if it means you'll never have that intense fire and magic of a deep connection again? I suppose that decision is relative to each person, and each person decides what they're willing to trade-off for. But I personally concede no ground.

See, you could find someone that ticks off every box on your checklist - "attractive, smart, secure job, within your age window, close by, likes pets, likes your kind of music, food and drinks, someone my parents will like, etc." - that's the easy part. Because you're intrinsically always on the lookout for that minutia of qualifications anyway, so you don't really have a choice in terms of the set of qualities you'll end up with. And you could go out with that person for a while. But after some time passes, you'll know whether they possess the ability to understand the depth of who you are... or not. And it will become obvious fairly early on that you're going to have to make a choice: Surrender your ceiling and settle for "well it's not bad", or admit that you and the other person deserve more - deserve better - and then be brave enough let them go. It's irresponsible not to. You're denying them happiness just as much as you are your own.

I'm a stubborn son of a bitch. I was with an "easy" for about 5 years. But I eventually came to the realization that she would never fully grasp who I am or appreciate the extent of me. That's simply not who she was. This isn't a bad thing; On the contrary, she was and still is a profoundly wonderful person. One of my favorite people I've ever met. She was just a very simple person and needed only a simple boyfriend that wanted a simple life. That would make her happy. Unfortunately, I'm neither of those things. And I knew that somewhere, out there, was a simple guy that she could fully appreciate and would fully appreciate her in return and need nothing more from a relationship. Some people are perfectly content eating vanilla ice cream. She was a vanilla girl. (I was.. I dunno... Rocky Road? Is that a cliche enough metaphor?) So at the expense of my secure contentment and for the sake of her happiness, I let her go.

And then I pursued my twin and she pursued me. 

And then we won. 

And then we lost. 

The rest is history. 

And this isn't about ego, either. It has nothing to do with, "I want someone who always thinks I'm a god." Because it has to work both ways. They could unearth everything amazing in you and you could like it, but if you're incapable of tapping into the amalgamated spirit of who they are, it's not going to work either. It's the reciprocated acknowledgement of one another's true essence.

There are plenty of women out there that fulfill my surface requirements for a partner: Pretty, college-level intelligence, ambition, broad sense of humor, empathy, well-intentioned, informed intuition, analytical defaults, submissive vulnerabilities, alpha tendencies, a willingness to push me and to be pushed herself, politically and socially aware, big and kind-hearted, not religiously-charged, craves life, loves animals, and possesses inherently strong nurturing instincts. There are quite literally tens of thousands of those women out there. And within my age range. And single.

But how many of them could possibly "get" me? For all their attributes that align with what I desire in someone else, the most critical aspect is the most difficult to find: Profound and accurate appreciation. In all of my years, I've only found it twice. I could have been content with silver a few times... but I can't. I never can be. I need gold.

You can find and be with someone that has all the stuff you want on paper. But kicker is that intangible variable in the equation that so many people forget and causes them to settle: It's not about what you find in a person - that's the easy part. It's about what that person finds in you. That's what makes it work. In the end, you'll miss what they loved about you. Because it's when you get someone that sees things in you that no one else has seen before - not even yourself - that's when you truly have a unique connection that you can live for.

That key that moves all the tumblers in your lock.

-HKR

Welcome to Santa Barbara. 

Sitting still.

Be with me. 

Okay. 

Go away. 

Okay. 

I'm sad. 

Are you okay? 

I miss you. 

Let's hang out. 

I miss this. 

If you ever need me, I'll be here. 

Go away. 

Why? 

Because of that. 

That had nothing to do with you. 

Leave her alone. 

What?

It's over.

I don't understand.

Don't ever talk to her.

Okay. 

I'm waiting for you to show me you care. 

But...

I feel betrayed, you never cared.

...

[deleted]

The echo of the click.

And then you flew away

Leaving behind the debris of blame,

As I choked on the down from your wings

In confusion and pain,

With only your guiltless halo in the dark

To remind me of the lie.

Goodbye, Oh Captain, My Captain.

Rest in peace, the father I never had. -HKR

Glympse

When you find out you're not good enough.

All over again.

A Million Ways...

"Here you go. While you're at it, you can buy your girlfriend a brain."

"Excuse me?"

"You're an idiot. You have the nicest guy in the world throwing himself at you and here you are with this asshole."

"Who I go out with is my own business, so why don't you mind your own, bitch."

"How are you so blind with eyes that big?"

The mad rush of it all.

I feel that the worst is still yet to come; that the real temptation which I await for is far beyond, advancing slowly upon me, heralded by delirious cries. And my miserable spirit is crouching for it, silently - a fascination of body and soul, the sharp withering horror of this misfortune.

The heart of prayer was not torn from me; it fell away of itself as ripe fruit falls.

I know this is no unusual trial. No doubt my doctor would say I'm suffering from a nervous strain, that it's very foolish to try to live on only a little bread and water, figuratively speaking. But I don't feel tired. Sometimes I wish I had to struggle against only myself... I think my courage would come back to me then. Occasionally I feel the pain in my chest. But it comes all of a sudden now. It doesn't wait from second to second as it used to...

If I ever yield to the temptation of sharing my pain with anyone, no matter who, my one last link with God will have been severed. And I think then eternal silence would begin for me.

The 5 Types of Girls That Bug The Hell Out Of Me

This goes out to all girls, not any one in particular as either a warning or a plead (so if it seems like I’m talking about you, that just means is that you fit into that particular category). What I’m going to be doing is talking about not only the dumb things girls do, but the dumb things girls do that guys would never do. And yes, I am very aware that there are things dumb guys do that girls never do but that’s not what this is about. Hence the title. Further disclaimer: This is by no means saying that ALL girls are like this. The majority of girls are downright excellent people. This is just a bitter rant. With some generalizations.

That said...

"Stay still. I'm just going to wash my fist off on your face. You love me, right?"

First off, the most frustrating type of girl to watch are the girls that stay with a guy that they obviously should not be with. You know the kind. Everyone and their mother and their mother’s neighbor's cable guy's cousin's barber' pet dog knows that they don’t belong together and that he’s not good enough. Whether it’s because he’s immature, an abusive prick, a liar, has no ambition in life or the age is too wide of a gap (i.e. 17 and 65). And regardless of how many fights and frustrating long nights and yelling matches the girl has with him, she will simply never leave him; Even though it would be for the best. I simply do not get this. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I totally understand the whole, "I love him so I want to try and work this out." That’s fine. But there’s a very important difference between being hopeful and being foolish.

And this is something you almost never see a guy do. If a girl treats him like trash, you can bet that he’ll talk to her, try to work things out, then give her another chance. But if it happens again? We’re outta there. We don’t need that. You don’t hear many stories about a man staying with an abusive wife. We just pack up and leave. Fuck that. Sure it hurts, but we know when to leave a bad situation. However, everyone knows a woman being beaten or in a relationship with a guy she doesn’t want to be with but stays because she feels she has to. LADIES! Wakethefuckup! It’s not like you have no other options out there! There are plenty of better men out there; ones that will fulfill your needs not only physically but emotionally. Stop wasting your time. Stop wasting yourself. Especially when there’s a better choice right in front of your face. Be happier with a better man instead of hanging on to a plane that’s on fire and headed into the ground. Pull the ripcord. You want some extra incentive (you know, besides the options of bettering your entire life and salvaging your future)? Ask any girl who left her abusive or cheating boyfriend if she would ever go back. And when they're done laughing at your face, they'll tell you no and that they've never been happier.

Two big reasons why fidelity isn't a priority.

Two: Da Playahs, Yo ... or, whatever. The heartbreakers. Ah, the virtual flip-side of the previously mentioned uber-loyal. These girls like to lure guys in with their killer looks and sexy words for nothing more than an ego boost. They have the lips, the eyes, the legs, the body and the knowledge to reel in the gullable and naive boys and then eat their hearts alive. Now you may say, "Well, if the guys are stupid enough to fall for it, they deserve it." Oh yeah? Let’s go with that mentality: If a girl wearing a skirt and a tank top gets raped at a party, then does she deserves it? After all, she wore those type of clothes and went to a place with a bunch of drunk guys and got drunk herself, then got raped. She basically slathered herself with meat and then jumped into the lion's den and poledanced in front of them. Doesn’t seem right, does it? Exactly. You don’t prey on another’s weakness for pleasure. Especially if it has to do with matters of the heart. Someone’s soul. That’s the worst kind of pain. Cuts and lacerations can be wrapped and healed, someone’s mind can be drugged and retards can be happy, but...a broken heart can destroy an otherwise perfectly healthy human being. So to these women you play these games, I say grow up or go to hell. We have guys that do that and I used to fight with them all the time. We don’t need girls doing it, too. The internet is perpetuating these kind of actions, tenfold. No one has to go out and meet anyone anymore. You can just send some pictures (doesn’t even have to be you) and then you can flirt like crazy and give out phone numbers and websites, etc. A large portion of Melodramatic.com is simply a huge dating service. No one likes to admit it but, it’s true. Not most of Melo, or even half, but a good slice. And truth be told, it could work. After all, the woman I love is on here. But I’ve never used any of my melos as a Neil-Billboard. But girls are far worse in this aspect that guys are. Don’t believe me? For instance, if you go to FaceTheJury.com, there are 50 girls for every one guy posted there. And if you compare pictures, you don’t see many guys flashing their groin or their ass at the camera. Sure there are some guy with their shirts up showing their 6-pack or maybe their arms, but that’s pretty much it. Usually it’s a guy from the shoulders up in a beanie looking at you or some guy on stage with his band. What are the girls doing? If it’s not some innocent face with serious cleavage showing, then it’s them in a bikini (or less) splashing water on themselves. Or the famous multiple shots of their ass. And don’t get me started on the ones with two hetero girls kissing each other for shock value. You’ll never see two straight guys kissing for a camera. Especially not for a website. These player girls are brutal. They flirt, tease, call and promise things but never deliver. And what happens when they get a guy to cry? "Oh geez. Whatever. I don’t care. He’s being a baby." I hope a guy comes and crushes you. That’s the only way you’ll ever learn.

And the third one. It’s not so bad as it is sad to me. Girls who, for all intensive purposes, are beautiful people both on the inside and out, but they refuse to see it. And I’m not talking about modesty. I’m talking about those 5’7" 120 lbs. model-worthy women who refuse to believe that they are anything except fat or ugly. All they see is the awful in themselves; which isn’t much, but they magnify it in their minds. Many things could attribute to this: Family issues, school torture, past personal trauma, mental disorders, etc. Do you know what being "fat" is? Being fat is 5’5", 210 lbs. That’s fat. That’s overweight. And even then, it still doesn’t mean you’re ugly. Being "ugly" or "beautiful" comes from within. If you’re a mean-ass whore (see: Players) you’re not going to end up with anyone. But if you’re a sweet and caring person, you’re going to be the woman who ends up with a respectful and compassionate man who will love you his life. You’ll never see a guy do this. A guy knows where he stands for the most part. A guy knows if he’s ugly, average or hot. We know who to hang out with and who not to hang out with. We’ll never stand in front of a mirror and wonder: Am I a 2 or an 8? Granted, there are many 2’s out there who go out and act like 8’s. But it’s not as bad as the 8’s who act like they’re 15’s. Cocky assholes. Still, these women who are incredibly stubborn in their own image need to understand that while it may not always be healthy to listen to everyone’s opinions, it’s almost always a good idea to at least listen to your close friends. And your close friends will tell you that you’re a wonderful person who needs to stop the work and binge and start working on your confidence. Friends don’t try to chang eyou: true friend should try to help you. No one makes you feel ugly. Only you do. And you’re human. There’s a big chance you’re wrong about yourself. You don’t have to believe them, especially when you know if anyone calls someone else a bad name it’s only meant to hurt and it’s not based on fact. Ignore them (this is the most important and the hardest to do). Also, stop comparing yourself and your body to other people on TV or in your mind. Be a first rate version of yourself and not a 2nd rate verson of someone else. Eat. Keep it down. Don’t feel guilty. Look in the mirror and smile at yourself. At this exact second, there are twenty guys that are thinking of you. You’re a great person. Be it.

Where am I? Four? Four. These are almost worse to watch than the ones that stay with the undeserving boy (#1). These are the girls that move on and leave after the armageddon that was the relationship and then jump...right back into another one. Or, God forbid, a worse guy. An example: This happened with a friend of mine, Michelle. She went out with my friend Jeff Treat. After two years or so, they had both cheated on each other multiple times, had a "foursome" with Jeff’s cousin and his friend Steve and another guy, he took pictures of a girl giving him a blowjob which Michelle found later, she gave Jeff’s cousin head in the backseat while Jeff was driving, Jeff got her pregnant and told her to get an abortion and then he was going to leave her until Gene and I, ah, "confronted" Jeff about it, right after they broke up Gene and Michelle had sex, etc. There was more. It was an absolute disaster. Still, it wasn’t as bad as her next boyfriend. She was single for a while and had fun with guys (as most girls would after leaving a long relationship like that) and then got a boyfriend by the name of Tim. Tim is a drugee and a drug dealer and an alcoholic. On top of that, he’s broke and has no job. He’s been in jail and he loves to start fights. No matter how bad Jeff and Michelle got, Michelle was always a nice, wonderful person. She was always fun to be around. Now...I dunno. She’s lost her sparkle. She’s just...not Michelle anymore. She gets drunk at parties every week, does pot and has done cocaine. She’s like a zombie now. It’s scenarios like this that truly break my heart. The old addage, "Out of the frying pan and into the fire," applies here. Girls, look. If you finally come to your senses, pull your head out of your ass, wake up, open your eyes and leave that boy, just stop and breathe for a second. I know it’s hard and your radar’s tweaked to that Asshole Frequency, but just stop. If the guys you’re still attracted to seem eerily similar to your ex, THAT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE THE EXACT SAME TYPE OF SPEICES!!! Do not go to them! If you partied a lot, then don’t party for a while. If the ass you left was some goth guy into candles and piercings, hang out in well-lit rooms for a while and stay near magnets. If you met your ex when he was playing football, don’t go dating another jock!!! This is perhaps one of the hardest parts of growing up; learning from your past mistakes. Extracting only the wisdom from your experience and nothing else. My adivce is to simply be alone after a hard break up. This does not mean going out, fucking a different guy every week, not being with a guy and calling it "being alone". That’s called being single and reckless. Some may call it fun. But it’s only fun when the other person only wants a one night stand, and that doesn’t happen to often. And the more you do that, you’ll eventually run headfirst into drama. Don’t argue, you know it happens. Besides, when it’s all over and done with, do you feel better about yourself? No. In the end, no one who’s done that does. So if you finally break away into the fresh air of freedom, stand still and take a look around. You’ve got blue skies, new people and better choices. Take your time. Make friends. And then pick someone who meets the standards you had prior to your last relationship, before you were forced to lower them.

Five: Lesbians. Well, scratch that. They only bug me when they're beautiful. It's kind of like 

Apostatize.

"I hate L.A. and everything about it. I just do." -her, then 

"Ha." -me, now

A pin in it.

"Even if you could love her right - even if you could be the reason she smiled, or the consistency she needed, or the support she was missing - the most that her fear would ever allow you to be is "too good to be true." Because, to her, the memory of past pain is more important than opportunities and possibilities. 

"She's taken chances before you and doesn't have the time to see if you're different. Because even if you're incredible, she'll only see your flaws... and if you're genuine, she'll only see your mistakes. It's easier to complain than it is to change. So no matter how great you are, it's just a lot simpler to be scared than it is to step up. She's not ready for the work right now. And like it or not, thats just what you have to deal with when you're trying to love a heart you didn't break. 

"So if you aren't patient and prepared for the long ride, just quit while you're ahead. Because all she trusts is the game. And by the time you climb that wall, she'll have already moved her heart behind a taller one."

in statu quo res erant ante bellum.

Laying in bed, under covers, your ice-cold feet warming against my legs while I read "just one more chapter" of Catcher in the Rye to you until you fell asleep.

Then gently kissing your nose, silently wishing you sweet dreams, and turning out the light above our heads.

With the sound of the quiet city outside our window whispering on.

Envisage.

Despite the daily misconception among peers, there is, in fact, some thing that I do thank you for.

All the time.

It will come as no surprise to you that I am obsessed with the past; Why it happened, what could have been done differently, what events transpired that ultimately led me here, etc. And I analyze the present beyond normal social recognition, constantly weighing risk vs. profit, picking poisons, and justifying consequences with their respective actions.

However, what you allowed me to do - for the first time ever, with anyone - was to look ahead. With you, I was optimistic. I felt so confident with the substance and chemistry we had that I became excited about our possibilities. Excited enough that I began looking ahead: At what I finally had the freedom to become, now with someone not only supporting my decisions, but making me think and grow in new ways, and pushing me forward when I needed that nudge; And you, being with someone not trying to lock you down into a role, introducing you to new ideas, new perspectives, and someone that wouldn't let you slide, even if it meant wagging my finger at you or just grabbing your goddamn hand and pulling you back up onto my shoulders. The "team" dynamic and synergistic partnership had me so hopeful and excited about the future.

The future... The one thing I used to force myself to avoid looking at. Never hope for. Never plan around. It was always too uncertain, full of stories from everyone else about how "life has its way of changing your plans." And so I never bothered to look ahead. Only concerned myself about today. Building slowly, deliberately, one brick at a time.

But you had me seeing entire skylines.

The problem was that I was so enamored in our atmospheric potential that I became blinded by the present. In essence, I tripped over a rock while looking up at the sky. So many things I should have put a pin in as signs and red flags and confronted you about - or maybe even used as valid reasons for leaving you. But I set them aside with the intention of love, hoping you would see my patience and constantly unraveling slack as a gesture of my willingness to be flexible and understanding. I hoped the reward would be equal to my investment. That one day you'd wake up to the calm sea of you and I, look back behind us at the horizon of a fading storm and think, "Wow. He stayed with me through all of that. And he's still here. I guess he must truly love me."

But I never recieved that. You never got to that point. You came close, a few times. I'll admit. But in the end, you ran away again, spinning stories to friends and family, I'm sure, so they would tell you what you needed to hear to justify the way you treated me. Maybe it was unfair of me to be waiting for that moment.

Still, somewhere out there, wherever you moved and left to, I know I pop up in your mind. Maybe not every day anymore... maybe even just once a week... but I know I do. A song, a color, a joke, maybe even someone's voice, some trigger will remind you of me. And you'll remember I'm out here, your "abstract entity"... your mental twin... your shell... and you know what you did to me. No one else may know. Your new friends won't. Your new co-workers won't. Your new boys won't. But you will. At least, for the few flashes of a second it comes back to you before you blink, shake your bangs, and push it back down to forget it all.

You don't ever have to say you're sorry to me.

I don't need it anymore.

I just miss having a future.

Ignition initiation.

"Do you remember our first kiss?"

"That was like... six or seven years ago? Eight? No."

"Well, I kissed you."

"Well, yeah, I never kiss a girl first. Or ask a girl out. Just not what I do."

"Yeah, I had to kiss you. It was so cute. You were so nervous. Like this scared, little puppy. You were so adorable."

"Ha."

"It was weird, because you're usually so... so... like, in command. Like so..."

...

"...alpha! You're usually such an alpha male. Like this big bear or wolf or something. But suddenly there you were, just timid. And it melted my heart."

"You have no idea the deja vu I'm having right now."

"But once you get the green light... yeah. You turn on."

"...you have no idea the deja vu I'm having right now."

Wicked.