doubt

i've just found, not entirely to my surprise, that what i've written in this up to now is not good. it's been interesting, perhaps, but reading it now i find i can see right through it. i haven't accomplished what i've set out. i wanted more honesty, i wanted more depth, i wanted...well now i'm not sure, but i know what's behind me isn't it.

i've spent most of my life going from one social group to another, staying just until one person in the group sees what a creep i am and subtly or not so subtly removes me from their life and, as a result, eventually the group. i've been through quite a few sections of society at this point and i'm tired.

here's an experiment. what follows will either be what i want or just another failed attempt. regardless, we'll find it eventually. i'm sure of that. as long as i keep trying.

***

its not the way it used to be, that's for damn sure. and, by god, i wouldn't have it any other way. some people think the older days are ones we should take heed of. they don't realize that we already have. that's why tradition feels so condescending.

fuck that.

fuck poetry. i already dwell too much on what i say, if i did it any more i'd go mad.

if you really hate someone, nest mosquitoes in their mattress.

"oh, so this is your stoner phase."
"..."

"well it doesn't look grown-up to me."

what is "grown-up"? i'm tired of guessing, guys. look, i missed out on all that little shit you guys learned, ok? i always missed the meetings. how to wash your hands, how to tie your shoes, how to lie, how to laugh, how to talk to people, each gender, all those little lessons no one ever talks about but what just happen. they didn't happen to me, and i've been limping my way along all this time, getting by with second-hand scraps and hints. i'm tired of guessing, i'm throwing in the towel, just fucking tell me.

--a desperate plea from a desperate man.

and i'm tired of having to tell myself "i didn't enjoy that" after i masturbate.