Crazy cracka

Fuck it, I need to get a new loft. If there is one thing I need more now than anything is to move out of this crappy cockroach-and-mosquito-and-other-unfamiliar-vermin-infested place. Strands of hair has started to fall off of my head because I keep hassling myself over how the fuck I should just stay smug of what I have because even if I did want to do something about it I can’t as a corollary to the restriction of trust endowed upon me by people in authority.


- - -

HOW QUICKLY IT DOES FADE

Everything has become bland. I knew somehow that it was just a matter of time that it would come to this eventually, as all things do. The idealism that we tried to sustain over the course of time has been finally reduced to what it really is without the gilded opinions of an unspoiled and quixotic partiality of misled fools that we have painted it with. It was just the sort of spur of the moment emotion that must have felt so good that we allowed it to drag on believing that it might be true or that we might be able to make it true somehow. The memories that we have made out of the experience was like a plaything that we had been so eager and excited to toy with at the start, then after some time as what usually happens to toys… after being overly used, we’d grow tired of it. And now those once magical things that had happened between us will just be another part of history that would be forgotten in due course. Maybe I'll look back on it, but without remembering how it felt. Maybe some day I might feel the same things again, but with someone new. That's just how it works, and willy-nilly I have to learn to deal with it.

How quickly it does fade.

--oOo--