Lets Pretend.

Okay.
Lets pretend things were different.
Lets pretend he was a happy kid.
His parents never divorced in 96,
forcing him to become so love sick.
His step-dad wasn't a prick,
and managed to keep his dick,
in his pants for 5 more minutes.
Pretend that he wasn't crying at night,
wishing his family would stick
together for a while just to bring,
happiness to the table
and he had a girlfriend he could say loved him,
for who he is.
Pretend he wasn't asking,
a load of questions like
why his Dad never wanted to see him at weekends.
Took till he was ten to even get a whiff
of fucking at-ten-tion.
His family never hated him
and blamed him for the crumbling foundations.
His lover wasn't crazy as shit
and made him pop pills just to feel un-different.
He saw his friends outside of school
and wasn't smoking or drinking away the stress
to hide the fact from his parents that he felt so fucking depressed.
Now get this bitch!
He's happy with how things worked out
even if he lost his soul and his mind
it doesn't matter at this time
all of this shit just means he's got more work cut out.
He can smile and hide all of this shit
inside that cranium of his
like the alienated prick that he is.
A brother, three sisters
he needs to stay strong for
and hope they get the life that he longed for
and if they don't what the fuck can he do?
Nothing.
He'll just keep on smiling for you.

The return.

And now I return with new words,wisdoms and whims.
How is life now? Complete bollocks and yet I'm smiling a lot.
Why? I know how to play this game.
It has become apparent to me over the last month or so that when we all die we will sit and ro in a grave.
Whether you want to believe in a God of some kind,some immortal being who will save you from damnation, is completely in your hands.
Me? Fuck that I'm dieing and dieing well. Pissed up,fucked up and content.
Good times.
Now, whilst I'm wallowing in self-pity at the distress I supposedly find myself in, I smile and fucking laugh.
I have no woman, no money and no importance.
Bullshit.
I have a world of women, endless amounts of money to obtain and my importance will come as my world expands.
Smile fuckers.
Peace.

Internal Thoughts Of A Catastrophic Fool.

So here I am. Again.
Happy. Jaunty. Devil may care.
Because I've realised something over the last two days.
I'm not a burden and never will be. To toot my own horn I'm far too interesting.
My mind is like a puzzle that needs solving, the pieces not quite fitting together.
I thought I'd be gutted. I was for the whole of an hour but then I looked at shit realistically.

I am not ever gonna be 100% happy at the moment.
I can try but its not going to happen. I'll be like 95.5%.
I will always have lingering doubts over everything so I'm no good to anybody in this state.
My life goes on without me while I drink and drown in a sea of pointless pussy.

I had a dream last night. It was fucked up. She was in it. Not she. Another one.
They're all nameless to me. But I don't understand why this paticular woman was in it.
I've never met her before in my life. She's a good kisser though. In my dream of course.
Now I thought it was just a random dream. I'm used to them.
But if I dig beneath the surface I have a theory.
It doesn't take Freud to figure it out.
I have an affinity to unavailable women. Fucking great.

So now I must muse over which way to go. Do I choose my favoured route.
The "head down,get on with things" or do I go for broke and just drink and fuck whatever comes my way instead of backing out like I have in the past because of one tiny thing.
Maybe to much pubus, I was too tired or I just really didnt find her that attractive.
Fuck it we shall see.

It is funny though. Life.
It's full of so many twists and turns I've lost my touch with reality.
I don't know what's fantasy and what is real.
I wish to get lost in fantasy. Everything works for me and I can just sit back in my metaphorical armchair and relax.

But in this reality I lie in my bed alone. Bloodshot eyes, hungover and yet not entirely unhappy.
Life. The wonders. The mystique. Got to love it.
I am no longer chasing the dragon. It's not worth the effort.
Fuck.

Addicted.

Its funny as of late
As I contemplate all that is at stake
I'm addicted to the all the pain in my scalp
People screaming I need help
But I don't,I'm just trying to burn in hell
Thoughts of suicide all the time
As I'm getting high
Sitting back in the night with my head in the sky

I'm addicted to all these pills around me
All this alcohol that surrounds me
Take a swig from the bottle
Fly off full throttle
There's nothing I couldnt be.
I'm addicted to all this shit
All the thoughts inside my head
All the pain that I seem to feel
Questioning whats real
All I know is I'm addicted.

Wasted Romance.

Wasted Romance. Where do I begin? Do I retread everything I've spoken about before?
Or do I try and put a new spin on it? A narrative. Structure.
Well, what is wasted romance? Is it really a waste? Or is it just the mind playing tricks?
Is it really romance? Or is it just constituting acting like a fucking faggot?

I have been called many things but romantic is not one of them. I like to think I am but something I do must not sit with the female mind.
Am I soppy? I don't like to think that. I like to speak my mind and hell if it means calling a woman beautiful then so be it. She must be for me to say it.
True beauty isn't makeup, Extensions and fake fucking nails.
Its facial structure,hair(prefereably curled.Take note.) and eyes.
A personality. Character.
Add them together and well. Thats a pretty fucking beautiful woman.

I try my hardest. I'm not the most confident evidently. But if I have something to aim for I will peel my shell off. Blow the cobwebs off my brain and thaw out my heart(30 degrees pre-heated works.) I will tell her how I feel. Woo her. Let her feel the woman she is. Realise her pro's, her flaws and get caught up in the whirlwind. Flying,falling failing.
I want her to know I'm not just there for the moment. Here today,gone tomorrow.
That aint me.

How i want to just see her. Hey, if its just innocent talking I can be content in my head.
I know she'll never want that. I can't help that. But I can help her.
But at the end of it all will she truly trust me? Probably not.
Life's too fucked up to let any person truly let their guard down.
I can no longer pine after her. It makes my head hurt.
And I've got to stop blogging about her. It's ridiculous.

What a wasted romance.

Fool's Fiddle.

So the feelings are out, the thoughts have been said.
Mistakes have been made on my part.
And yet here I sit not entirely dissatisfied.
When all is said and done she made me happy for the course of a weekend.
Feelings not felt for a while were stirred up, cooked and devoured.
Real attraction. A fatal attraction.

How did it start? We have to travel back a month or so.
Through the crowds of people, chatter, banter and alcohol chirped a voice "Too young Follows".
I admit it raised a smile. A real one, not the fake ones i plaster onto my face in the mornings.
But nah it didnt start there. At that point she was just a beauty in the night, a lady to behold.
In hindsight I probably should have left shit there.
But no, it moved on. Week after week I saw her, heard her and in a way felt her.
The more we talked, the more I wanted to know of her.
The more I got to know of her.
The more I liked.

She was like nothing I had heard or seen before. Every word was....real.
Unquestionably devoted to the little things in life she made me realise a few facts.
1) I'm an emotional wreck when I don't need to be. She was right. I should be happy.
2) Life is an art form. She never used those words but from her mannerisms,pictures, words I picked up on this. Thankyou that I did.

She always seemed happy. I admit maybe alcohol had some effect but at the end of it all happiness comes from deep within. Instilled in us, nurtured and left to roam freely upon our shells. How I longed for just a slight connection. And then something changed. We spoke freely to each other. I spilled things I would never spill to anybody. Why?
I have no idea. I wrote a sentence. I wrote a paragraph. Next thing I knew I had devoted entire blogs to her. I tried to conceal it at first. Little revealing sentences here and there. Why? Was I afraid? I have no answer. But here I am Spilling my mind,heart and soul onto the screen. Her eyes can roam here. Those perfect eyes. See what I've written. Interested? Great.
If not what can I do?
Just sit here and keep playing my fool's fiddle.

Fuck.

Here I Am.

Well. I'm happy. I'm actually smiling. I can feel the creases in my cheeks, the shakes inside when you try and contain a laugh.
What a beautiful feeling. Matches a beautiful mood.
I sit here on my sofa full of joy, a lust for life re-awakened.
Give me a bottle of whiskey, a slap and send me on my way.
I refuse to fall off this pedestal. I've experienced my fair share of shit but fuck it.
It's the past. And the past ain't now.
All it took was a few words off her and i realised something.
I don't need to be happy inside.
Just on the outset.
Because I know if you fake something long enough you become that something.

Here I am depressed as fuck. Insides aching. I can feel the tears in my eyes, floodgates waiting to open. I refuse to let them.
I'm happy-go-lucky. Atleast I still feel something. I'm not some fucking cold hearted cunt.
I'm a frozen hearted prick. A modern day Jeckyll and Hyde, two personas, one person.

Here I am fucked off. Anger frothing over, spewing out my mouth. I can feel the venom flowing,rushing over my enemies. Let them know I'm not backing down. Call me what you want.
I couldn't give a folding fuck. At least I'm not a liar to me. I'm true to myself.
I keep my head above water, to see where I can go from here.

Here I Am.

Fuck.