A desolate wasteland
I don't know what's right to feel and what's wrong anymore. I get so, so fucking irritated and I know how irrational it is. It's bordering on childish jealousy. To throw such a stupid mental tantrum is just really, really stupid. And it's just so fucking, really fucking just. I can't just keep pretending can I. When I pretend that I never see anything all the time. And even though I know, I KNOW. I can't even say anything because it just sounds like some bloody stupid thing out of a goddamn book. Ok need to stop cursing so much. But yeah, the point being that, I go on the pretext of just playing the fool. And then reality hits and I know, but I put on this, this mask, and smile and laugh and just. But it really is foolish. This, belief that maybe there is a fairytale story out there. That sometimes miracles happen and everything you wish comes true. Yes it happens sometimes. But not for things like this. Never for things that can't be forced. That even if the truth is revealed, doesn't change much. If the outcome is favourable then yay all is good. But if reality is chosen, then what can one do but wallow and face the facts? Time to grow up. Time to know that all the effort in the world won't change the outcome. That no matter what I can never measure up. Just looking at the dubbing of one versus the other, you can tell. That there will always be a disparity and different ways of being viewed. And if what I suspect is true then all the more. Promises don't always work. And if this, muddle-ness is cos of. Other things that weigh on the emotion and not the tangible, then never mind then. Such a fucking nuisance
Realising I actually really like Graham Swift's style of writing.
Proper post another time. Just clearing tonight.
Good Night
But if you close your eyes
Does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all?
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