Rick, forgive me for doing this in notes; I’m not strong enough to do it in persons.
I realize now that I’m attracted to you for the same reason I can’t be with you: you can’t change.
And I have no problem with that, but it clearly means I have a problem with myself.
I’m sure there’s no perfect version of me. I’m sure I’ll just unify species after species and never really be complete.
But I know how it goes with us. I lose who I am and become part of you. Because in a strange way, you’re better at what I do without even trying.
Yours, and nobody else’s,
Unity
I just suck the fun out of everything. Day by day, the flavor gets muted and the sensation... is far from what it was. I am tired and yet I do not exert enough effort. I am disappointed by so many things. These emotions are not doing me any good.
Sometimes I feel that I do not care enough about the things that really matter and that I put too much weight on things that don't. I am stuck in a roundabout and I'm running out of gas. I think I need to rest these old bones. What you do, what you feel, what you think, along with your sins are not my burden anymore. They are not mine to carry -- the same way that I don't give you a cross to bear.
Talk is cheap. Let's just keep quiet.
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Almost 27 years. I think that's old enough to say that play time is over.
As a kid, my parents always told me not to pick fights with others. As I grew up, I always thought "Why not?" Especially when you're on the right side of the fence. Trying to make a man out of my own lauds, picking a fight seemed to be a good idea.
Fast forward to year 27, everything seems like a fight-in-the-making. Jokes, exchanges, drinking binges, for Christ's sake -- even driving. Friends can sometimes feel like strangers you'd definitely scoff at on your way to work, and family becomes overbearing at times. Always looking for a fault so I can spew some nasty things at them. Not a good sign. Sometimes, I just want to bury memories and blur faces. But then again, I may just be overthinking.
Again, in a drunk stupor, I ask a buddy of mine what he thinks of this story I told him. I got pissed at him for telling me off, that I was too busy investing time on shit that didn't matter. I shouted in response -- "Well, it matters to me!" Only after waking up the next day with a bad hangover and an even worse buzz brought about by a sudden realization that I came to a conclusion that I do think too much of things that don't really matter. So fuck it, fuck that, fuck you, fuck everything. Less shit for me to take on. Less fake people to rub elbows with, less distractions on my part. And at year 27, that sounds like a good plan.
I need to see less, feel less, worry less to experience more. Some things are just not worth your attention. So instead of goodbye, I say good riddance. It was fun while the booze was in and the food was hot.
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