luminaire

Whee, I love overtime.

Not just because I like getting extra money, but I don't do shit at home. I don't have a life outside of work anyway, so I might was well get paid to have no life.

I need a car. And I need a date. Or at least a Valentine. I can't decide which is more important. They all seem impossibly hard to find.

You know, I've been thinking about it lately. I never really understood it in other people, mostly because I hadn't ever really been there myself. I have become the creepy ex-boyfriend that won't leave you alone. You've moved on, you're in another relationship, but I'm just that guy that you dated a long time ago; I'm just that guy that keeps calling.

But I never could really picture myself as anything but normal, I really had no idea the damage I could be doing. I have become that which I hate most. I have become the guy that won't let it go. I have become a souless, writhing, pathetic fuckhead. I have no idea how I've changed so drasticly.

So now I question myself; my every move, my every action, which is probably worse. I've lost confidece, I've lost trust, I've simply lost. I'm helpless, and I hate it.

Why couldn't I let it go? Why can't I now?

The musings of the workaholic are interesting, especially when you don't sleep alot.