A Rant.

I wish I could write when I'm angry, or sad, or just lonely. I can't. I can only talk. So I talk. To anyone who'll listen. Often times, that's nobody, so I just talk to myself. It's sad. Me, I mean. I'm just one fucking disappointment after another.
Oh. that's another thing about me. I curse. A lot. Not outright, not to people, not even to my closest friends or farthest enemies. Only to myself. And by way of this, to you. I don't have a foul mouth. I have a foul mind. It disgusts me and I wish i didn't, but I do.

I'm waaaay too emotional. And not just in the relationship aspects of my life, either. In every aspect of my life I take every emotion to the extreme. When I'm happy, I'm ecstatic. When I'm angry, I'm batshit rip-your-fucking-head-off angry. When I'm sad I weep.

Sadness. Now that's a strange emotion for me. When I get sad, I can't get sad about just one thing. It avalanches. It starts as a snowflake, a single tear. The girl I love basically tells me to go fuck myself, "but it's OK because we can still be friends, smiley face." Meh. I'll get over it. But then I don't. And I start thinking about my sorry excuse for a life. One friend, who just so happens to be the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with for about three years now, my brother, and my computer. It's sickening. Then I think about the even sorrier excuse we have for a society. Not just in North America, but in the world. It makes me want to throw up. The literal wars in the middle east. The figurative wars between the east and the west. The same stupid-ass politicians stepping up and promising change, and just making things worse. That's when the weeping starts. I weep for myself, having to grow up in this world of hate, pain, and despair. I weep for my non-existent children and grandchildren, for they will have to face even bigger problems as they mature. I weep for my brother. He might get married.

Then my emotion changes to disgust. Disgust in myself, for thinking ahead and not enjoying the moment and the fruits of what is left of the beautiful world we have. Then I become disgusted at the girl I love. I tell her in my own, stupid, socially deprived way every single day that I love her. I love her so much it hurts when she is near me. I would walk through fire for her. I would kill for her. I would leave everything i know, everything I am, if only she would love me back. But no. I'm too old. Two years. Or as she used to put it, when it suited her needs to be my equal, one year and three-hundred sixty-five days. (she claims one of us was born on a leap year.) Her parents don't approve, of course. I was responsible, so one day when we were sitting together she tried to kiss me. I, in my misguided sense of "honor" or "gentleman-ship" or whatever the fuck you want to call it, I turned her down, stating "I don't want to get on your parents' bad side," reasoning that "if they outright ban me from seeing you, I won't be able to see you at all."

No shit.

And that was the last time she showed any interest in my besides friendship. I guess I deserve it. After all, what was I thinking? Looking into the future? Trying to find the best outcome where she and I stay together? What the fuck was I thinking??? I was trying to keep our relationship intact! I mean, come on! Who does that anymore? I could go on. Maybe I'll create another entry on just her.

Fuck chivalry.

So it's not like I rant or anything. Where was I...? Oh, right. Disgust.
So after I feel disgust towards my "ex" and finish feeling like a retard for ever thinking I could be happy in loving someone so innocently and deeply, I start feeling disgust at the whole world. Oh, by the way, fuck you world.

Then I get angry. At myself, for being so stupid. At my family, for trying. At the world again, for being such a great place to live. But strangely, not at her. Even when I feel disgust at her, it's not really at HER, it's more at me, for being so forehead-slappingly brain-dead. But not at her. I love her. I love her more than life itself. She is the reason I even care about my grades in school. I still don't care much, after all, I'm a screw-up, but she cares. So my emotion switches over to love. Pure, unadulterated love. I love her with a passion that burns through my chest. The fire from that passion consumes me, devours my soul, rips me limb from limb until I cry out in pain,
"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME??? I SUBMIT! PLEASE, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"
But she never does. She sits there, in the back of my mind, waiting. Biding her time. Looking for the right moment to pounce and make me a quivering shell of what I used to be. I take that back. That's not the right analogy. I don't care, though. I'm done.
I love you.
I know. Strange way of showing it.

Welcome to my brain.