Selfish Me.

WARNING:
Today's blog entry is an angry, self-loathing, self-serving rant against all civilized society.
If you do not want to spoil your day, I suggest you wait until I'm in a better mood for a perkier blog entry. You have been warned.
Proceed at your own risk.
I need a hug.

And I don't expect it to come from anyone anymore.

In my feeble attempts to sort and sieve through my life, I have just come to realize that maybe I don't need anyone. Or I don't need just anyone.

I believe I've been a good friend to my friends. Well, maybe not where money is concerned, but I try to be there whenever I can.

However, it has come to the point where I don't really want to worry about their problems. I need to get it together.

So I got problems, great. I suppose it's the unattractive me or I think I'm unattractive. Gay culture ruins people like me - pushing me further into the closet.

All this bullshit of people complaining about how it sucks to be single really gets on my nerves. Boo-hoo, my life sucks. Boo-hoo, I'm single. Fucking shit! I've been single for four years. I'm practically in a convent or a monastery or something like fucking that. Sure, I complain about, but not as much as some people. The worst part of it is that it's not just a couple of people but a handful of them, coming up to me.

I'm not Oprah. I'm not Dr. Phil. Fuck off!

So maybe I asked for it. Nice guys finish last. For people like that, my heart bleeds for them. Really, I do.

It's just that I'm such a frickin' bleeding heart that I've grown numb. Gimme space. I'll fix my own life first. Then, maybe, we can fix yours.

I try not to dwell too much on my own status. However, when people who have only been single for less than half a year begin to rant about how much it sucks. I get so fucking offended. What am I chopped liver?

I chose to be single for four years (long story made short, it's my personal therapy for the end of a four year relationship). Now that I'm back in the market. My sealegs are woobly. I have no idea what I'm doing.

So I end up staying away. I need to love myself. Not someone else.

Then again, here I am. Mr. Tough Guy is spent from ranting.





And I still need a hug.



"Nothing lasts forever." "All good things must end." I've memorized that phrase by heart. So tell me, I need to know it. When do the good things start? -Charlie Brown, "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown"