The guy that’s always there is the guy that’s always overlooked.

Perhaps I should just stop being that guy, and become a right cuntbag.

Bitches love cuntbags.

Love seems to be something only reserved for the good looking.

Apparently those six-or-so months of whatever-the-fuck-it-was were actually nothing. “Nothing happened” between us, you said.

Fuck you bitch. If everything you put me through was nothing, then you really are a horrible, horrible person.

You better fucking see this.

I care too much about people who care too little about me.

And I miss things and people and Idon’tknowwhat, and I don’t know if I am allowed to feel this way.

I pretend that things will get better when I leave for Uni. If I get those grades.

And that’s a big if.

But, if I do, will I meet someone who is right for me? Someone who fully understands me, accepts me for what I am?

I don’t know.

It’s just that once again, something feels like it’s missing in this life of mine, and it just does my fucking head in.

I want to love. I want to be loved in return.

Too much to ask for?

The mind is awake.

I haven’t done anything proper on here for a while, doubt I’ll be returning here regularly. Just the occasional rant, perhaps.

Right. So back in Jan something pretty damn amazing happened, but logistics suck and made it hard. But we made a promise, a deal, we would make it work in the summer, when the distance was much less of an obstacle. Much much less. It’s now the summer, and basically it’s all fizzled out into nothing. You broke your promise, you let me down, you hurt me with words and actions.

And yet… Whilst this is still a fresh wound, it doesn’t hurt as much as I’d expected it to. No nosedive for me, no returning to bad habits (or, any more frequently than they are anyway), nothing too much.

I guess I’d been expecting it for a long time, the periods of ignoring me should have really alerted me from the start. As should have the general reluctance. I was foolish. They say love does that to people.

Seeing the more recent things online… I’m going to sound petty here, but here it goes. The fb profile pictures of you with other lads, where they signs? Who knows. And then the posts of you telling people that you miss them, that you’re looking forward to seeing them again, a plethora of kisses. But nothing for me. Really should have known.

You started it off with a drunken phonecall. I ended it by texting you and then getting drunk afterwards. Near symmetry I guess.

Okay, so I’m not exactly thrilled with how it all panned out. Far from it. But I’ve got to accept it and move on. Of course, all this does is add to the list of girls who have hurt me. Perhaps I should be more cautious next time. Note to self: don’t get too involved or too attached too quickly. Hell, let someone fall for you for once, they way you always fall for them.

I’d be lucky for that to happen to me, I guess.

Perhaps I’ll just go off to uni in september (that’s a whole other topic to rant about) and become a massive manwhore. More likely is that I’ll be exactly the same, lonely and unloved.

I don’t even know where this leaves me now. Sometimes it’s just good to acknowledge what’s on my mind I guess.

So here’s to a romance that never quite got close to fulfilling its potential.

Sudden melancholy. How odd. I’d say I’ve missed you, but I really haven’t, old friend.

UGH.

There are things on my mind that I no longer feel safe sharing on the internet. I’ve been let down by so many people, but what’s worse is that I’ve let down many, many more. I hate who I’ve become.

I don’t really know what I want now.

Fuck you.

Stop playing these games. Stop these lies. It seems that it’s easy enough to make time for everyone else.

So why not me?

I can’t help but feel that you’re continuously letting me down.

There was one of his lonelinesses coming, one of those times when he walked the streets or sat, aimless and depressed, biting a pencil at his desk. It was a self-absorption with no comfort, a demand for expression with no outlet, a sense of time rushing by, ceaselessly and wastefully - assuaged only by that conviction that there was nothing to waste, because all efforts and attainments were equally valueless. — F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and the Damned (via larmoyante)

(via mobscenity)

Tumblr you troll. Tell me I have mail. And then don’t let me see it. Dick.

Literally raging against the machine, I guess?