Thirty Four : Short Lived

Romance is always short lived for me. Doesn’t matter where the blame could be placed, time, life, me, her – whatever. It doesn’t matter.

I’m tired of being “such a good friend”.
I’ve heard it before. I know. I’m a great guy. Someone is gonna come around and knock my socks off. Yup. Thanks… Hoping it was you, but…. yeah.. I know. Thanks. Accomplish great things, huh? Heard that before too; well, look at what I’ve accomplished thus far. Yes, I’m a great guy, you’ve said that already. Hey, how about this? I’ll stop you before you just start running in circles. Let me show you the door, you’re not going to want to see me for a few weeks. Oh, because you’re going to start seeing that guy you’ve been talking about for weeks. So you can be that “someone” for them instead. Me? Yeah, I’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time; sure as hell won’t be the last time.

Look, I grew up an only child – being alone isn’t anything new for me. Yeah, I’ll see ya later.
I’ll be fine, always am.

“I said I’d call, she said she’d write – we lost touch the moment I drove off.”

I’ll have to get a better car. Maybe a house to myself, my own business, a life. Maybe I can keep someone around if they don’t have to build a life with me. If I can just say “hey, want in on all this hard work I’ve done?”

No thanks, I’d rather be alone than let someone crash my party.
Want in? Should have been there for the build up. I’m not a “what’s going to happen at the end” kind of guy. I already know what happens at the end. I’m looking for the content. The beginning; more importantly, the middle – the adventure.

I see all the happiness on Facebook. People getting married, which shouldn’t really bother me – I’m not interested in the common perception of marriage; what’s the point?. “We’re so in love”. The pictures, the happy family moments, the visits from grandparents, holidays, birthdays, baths, puddles. “Look! Baby had so much fun in the snow today.”
I honestly can’t care any more than not at all.
At least I’m not scared of children now.
At least I can be in the same room as a baby (as long as it’s not crying.)

Google, tell me how to deal with this awful Facebook depression. I search for twenty minutes.
There must be a solution.
I write a letter to myself and delete it. Nope, this is the only option.
I write a new letter.

so long and thanks for all the fish. Unfortunately, you’re nothing but advertisements, game invites, and pictures of other people trying to show that they’re happier and more adventurous than they really are. I don’t need this false sense of community anymore. I don’t need to check up on everyone ever minute of every day. I don’t need to look at my phone and think “wow, my life is so boring compared to the people I know”. The people close to me will contact me and tell me when they’re ready, if they care. So thanks, Facebook, for reminding me what real interactions are. What real connections are. What humanity was, is, and will be. Totally fucked if we keep using things like this.”

The thought of April stirs like a storm. Get me out of here.


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