hansel

Oh! Lookout! The closet door is opening and the scary monsters inside are sizing you up. Apparently you look very tasty. I mean, really, really tasty. Like a whole dinner or something. Their cousins are under the bed too, so it's no use running. You're totally fucked. That said, it looks like I have a little secret to share. Are you ready? Are you really, really ready? Like, REALLY? Let's have a story time.

Okay then. Lately, I've been hating it when I'm right. I've thankfully made a few great stumbles in judgement lately. You know, the kind that force you to grow and think and all that shit. After some personal study I've found I can be a cynical fucking bastard. On the other side of the coin, I can be incredibly gullible. I can't seem to parcel out my faith in people evenly or equally, and I always fuck it up and do it wrong. I'm at total loggerheads with the voices in my head. In a word, run, boy, run. I suppose everyone has an Icarus story.

I know I've been really lucky. But, fuck, have the dissapointments been vicious? I don't even know how the dissapointments can be so vicious when you expect so little. I wish I could find enough evidence that being myself is enough. Or that trying to make myself a better person is even worthwhile. Am I being melodramatic? Probably. I suppose I'm just brilliantly dissapointed today. I promise I'm going to start flogging myself for every "I" statement I make, starting now.

"..I feel I was the one who got used and use to / just about anything you would tell me / but those days are more than over now.."