Maybe 

Maybe I don't understand other people's feelings. Maybe I don't care. If I try to love everyone at once, I'm hurting someone else I know I should feel is important to me. 

This is to the one I love:

It is eyes that I look at first to decide
whether or not my cruelty should be justified.
If reasoning doubts such a thing called open love 
My heart only belongs to one. 

Will honesty in my mind let me keep this to myself as it is true to my heart?
No, unfortunately not. 
But if reasoning doubts such a thing as open love
My cruelty is surely justified 
as my own values tell me that my heart only belongs to one.

On impulse or feeling can I say that my love wanders so curiously?
That in practiced restraint does my faith still belong to one
What is my virtue, means nothing.
Unless my virtue means loyalty.

It does still remain in the eyes of who I love 
That his love for me is true. 
And for those whose eyes gaze into mine to see nothing
My cruelty is surely justified.
With reasoning, my mind denies what my heart accepts

My heart accepts love from all
But my love belongs only to one
Even if my cruelty is justified
It is what I see in your eyes that my love is what I decide.

The little grace I have comes from a passion. 
A crazed feeling with a bit of mystique. 
A odd crave for this bit of attraction
With defects that prove it unique

From a standpoint it seems so appealing 
Situationally it's truly absurd
While in fact it was far too revealing
From a fantasy I far much preferred.

But for the little grace that I have for a passion
rejection and acceptance level fair
Absurdity was the main point of attraction
Though for what was substantial was not really there

Could it be true that because this was appeasing. 
There's no way it could really fare well
So for now, I'm done with the pleasing
And for our tryst, I'll see you in hell.

You'll never find me as lovely
Or as beautiful as you compare beautiful

You'll never see the flame that flickers because for you, I put it out
I'll never be the calmest wind to gently urge your wave.
I'll never see what you're about
Since my light's not what you crave.

But for a love like this to be so rare
Is the most wonderful time I've spent
That no other bond can truly compare
To such patience and temperament 

I'll allow you to bruise me 
Knowing full well that it hurts
I'll let gossip get the best of you
Because I want what you believe to be of some worth

I'll let you take everything away from me
Until I have no identity left
I'm an empty shell of a person 
Because you once felt bereft

If you think that I'm selfish 
You've allowed yourself hate
Because I'm not a good person 
But I'm far too easy to manipulate

What i've developed into is ugly
Because I don't bother to fight
So I'll allow you to hurt me
What was conditioned is that you're right.

I'm still an empty shell of a person
I'll sacrifice my happiness for yours
But I've bled for nothing
and I can't bleed anymore

To those who felt at fault from broken loves, to my parents and to those wild oats that we're sewn but never properly harvested:

Where is faith that belongs to only one?
And monogamy becomes just a word
Does beauty reap the benefits of something false?
Or does it suffer eternally in the arms of the false

To treat someone so bitterly
And in return taste the sweetness of faith
Because to realize the situation entirely
Will tongues sharpened to a fine point still will taste nothing

What abomination is this that sickness becomes acknowledgingly worse
To have evil's hand rise inside you as you melt completely.

However, when in turn to re evaluate, 
Reasons for infidelity isn't driven by lust
It's driven by deceit
Not by the one to demonize
But the one who demonizes in the first place 

head trauma

Feeling rushed and nervous all the time is awful. That's one of the things that know is beyond my control. I come to take things for the most part, as they are. Everything is beautiful. Even the things I find disgusting are beautiful and I thought I was the only one that felt that way. I really dislike any form of criticism for things in a present state of being. I just feel like there isn't a set balance with constant and unnecessary input in matters of open expression.
I used to never really be a fan of anti-climactic movies. Perspective changed for me because it's more of a reflection of life, without start or end. It just is. You don't really remember your beginning and you're sure as hell not going to remember the end. With that you don't really know where the middle is. It's not melodramatic and there is no wildly significant point to why life is, it just is. There's always fighting and there's always a reason to make things more than what it is but the truth is however much more boring for the fact. I prefer that. Not to state it in a way where it may seem negative. I don't see it that way at all.
Dissection destroys all illusion and romance in sparkles of mystery. What's most intriguing is the familiarity of what's misunderstood. Everything is taboo and therefore the idea of "strange" or "odd" has a suppressed allure. You can't hide what you really feel from yourself, it's just there. Whether how horrible, lewd, or disgusting you were learned to take it as. Fear is the number one incentive for a tight moral structure, then it goes as follows with repressed lust, dishonesty and greed but I suppose that comes hand in hand. Some people don't concern themselves with issues because they honestly believe it right. Those individuals tend to prove a "belief" sometimes out of spite. It's not the self interest of change but the change of something other than self interest. At a certain point, there becomes too much self involvement in anything and everything.

I think I may be depraved.

Obviously, that was a choice I was eager to accept after realizing how low my self esteem really is. But when it comes to being overlooked, it comes rather easily.


Another revelation of mine is that I don't really hate anyone, I just don't care. I mean I really don't care. I never knew apathy can run so deep in my veins to the point where morality is just a grey cloud of smoke that wafts right out of me after a long and emotionally distressing day. But to someone like me, everyday is emotionally distressing.
Without having to be extremely insecure about myself as it is, I have the overwhelming guilt of disappointing my loved ones and not really doing anything about it. I'll continue to do nothing about it because that's just the kind of person I really am.

I don't like being disappointed, and in turn I don't like anyone else being disappointed in me. That's why isolating myself from other people tends to be one of my very many useless talents I seem to have. A defense mechanism if you will. Keep your standards low so you'll never be disappointed. No one's surprised by the way I am anymore, it's not shocking, just expected. Having people expect so little from me isn't really much of an incentive to get anything more out of me. It kind of just brings me down even more. I guess I'm weak-willed but there aren't very many strong willed role models I've had to look up to. I think my expectations should seep down further into my bloodline.

It's depressing, yeah sure. But with a downward spiral of narcissism growing at an alarming rate, I give my permission to once again become overlooked. That's alright. I'm just bitching anyway.