Heat and despondency

What the hell is new anyway? Damn weather. One minute it’s cold and horrible, the next.. it’s hot and it’s crap. I feel hot. It didn’t even rain the whole day yesterday. It was humid. Maybe not so but heat invaded my body. I must be feeling some kind of hotness. Maybe that’s it.

I’m craving, I’m longing and wanting. Needing. Misery loves company. I am my own comfort it seems…for now. I’m about to whine again. I stare and stare and wonder where happiness lies. Usually, I am happy when I see the one that matters to me is ok and is happy and is good. Nevermind about myself. I can take it…but I’m here whining. There goes irony again.

I’ll just list the things that makes me happy besides making others happy…

I’m happy when I hear, the voice I hear the sound. I’m happy when I read. When I see messages..when there’s an exchange of thoughts. I’m happy when I’m intellectually fucked and orgasmically satiated. When I shake and feel seeping in and I’m learning something other than what I know…which is none. Of course there’s the predictable; when I feel good and okay and all is just working out fine and if it a beautiful day.

Oh and, if I can fricking write my thoughts the way I used to. Hah.

And speaking of writing that makes me cringe, my mind got stuck somewhere in my shitty youth, I can’t seem to move one and progress to more mature level of perusing my mind. I know I can write, I just don’t give a damn about what I say anymore. I wonder if it’s because this is just personal blog that nobody’d care to read or bother if my grammar sucks which is often the case. Hell, I have nothing profound to share. Not a bit of excitement or adventure. My thougths always centers on aversion of some kind. To life to people to everything. Like I’m always full of angst..which I try not to be that way. It’s hardly not cool…unless you’re Holden Caulfield or Enid ( from GhostWorld).

I’m still how I write and I feel.

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