Initializing the Internal...

For what seems like for good.
I feel like I'm no longer able to speak about the problems which bother me.
There is no pin point. I'm just a sad girl who lives in a sad little apartment.
There's no room for me next door. There no room for me anywhere.
Such an inconvenience.  Such a fuck up.
It's the simple things that really begin to add up.
Like breaking glasses, spilling water, burning food, and forgetting to call back.
It's all these really stupid little things that constantly pound in my fucking brain and don't let me sleep.
And when you release the poison into the air, it becomes everyone else's poison and they become sick.  It's not fair to them so why should I say anything?
Especially, when everyone is constantly surrounded by their own problems, why should I burden them with what seem like mediocre bull shit.
It seems like through out my entire life I've always felt like people were very dear to me and very special but yet I never, ever felt like the special one. 
Never the keeper.
Just always the step in between.
Glad I could help you see what you needed to in order to help you find what makes you happy.
Glad I could be your fucking stepping stone and your escape. Glad I could please you.
I'm sorry you could be more than just a phase.
I'm sorry I couldn't be the one you saw like I saw you.
Why should I even be sorry anymore.
That's why I'm here I supposed. For people to use. A human fucking garbage can no different from your average whore on some corner.
Tell me your problems-I'll listen.
Tell me your issues-I'll turn them into practical uses.
Tell me your insecurities-I'll make them into your most attractive attributes.
I feel so used.
So glad I could be your fucking band aid.
While I bleed and wait for the bandage and doctors to come I'm constantly being ripped of my skin to heal the wounds of those who meaningfully enter my life.
Glad I could help.
No, really, I am.
Too bad you're gone.
I never too calculus.. despite the fact that I'm good at math, I never went that far, however,
I know limitations
Limitations
Illuminations
Delusions
Absoultion
Destruction
It's time to let go.

"The time had come!" the walrus said. - Alice in Wonderland, Disney

I've always had old hands and when I got older so did they.
Now that the fat is finally disappearing I can see them again and they look much worse than they did as a child. No man wants a woman with old, worked hands.
No man wants a hard woman. 
No man wants a fast woman.

Easy.
But Hard.
An oxymoron to it's finest degree.
The Real Juliette, ladies and gentlemen.
Everyone around me is a couple with the exception of the one I've been mouth fucking/fucking for the last 6, going on 7 months.. technically a year.. and he's never had a girlfriend nor will he probably ever have one.

Well, there's always my luck...
Maybe I fixed him. I mean, that's how it usually works anyway. There will be one or two more and then BAM!!!!!!
Here comes the wedding bells. Match maker with no match.. story of my fucking life. How many more people do I need to fix before I'm fixed? I've been single for over a year.

Holding out for what??
I don't even know anymore.
A distant memory of what I thought was love only to have found out that this is not love making.. it's fucking.
It's just sex.

Oh, to be held again.. To be kissed. GOD, to be fucking kissed. That initial hesitation and then that final grasp for air when you take the most passionate touchings into account. That moment of liberation.
So easily faded into the darkness of the lustful bedroom.

I guess some of us were meant to be alone. For good...

-LR.