no more lost boys

There is no such thing as a second chance, but I guess we both lived our regret to the fullest. I ate mine – swallowed it whole for three months, wallowed in the shit of my own creation and now I pulled myself from the mire. I turned it all into and inside of me, and you? Now you’re regurgitating and moving backwards. It’s taken a year and some change, but I finally see clearly. A drug. Never abuse, but never far from, I guess. No making excuses ever again. No more excuses of bending backwards for the sweet self loathing that comes with someone like you.

I am thinking about disposability – replacement – compensating. To what degree do all those things change the course of my actions? Theirs? I can dispose. I’d rather not. I’d rather not compensate either. Or compare. That, at least, humans can’t help.

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in other news, i am allergic to everything, i argued with my professor and he's still an idiot, i am restless, and want to move, not just into to denver, i'd kind of like to transcend state lines and start as a brand new person.