About no one in particular.

Loved and lost,
She bitterly regrets,
Past instances,
Remembering only the bad.

This poor unfortunate thing,
Once shining brightly,
Full of hope and fervor,
Reduced to ash in the kiln of life.

Reforged into cold steel,
A tool for existing.
Shut off from the world,
Barbed wire defenses in place.

A great and yawning chasm,
Spanned by crumbling bridges,
Her heart cringes,
As wary travelers approach.

The view from above,
Breathtaking and endearing.
From within, much the same,
Perhaps a bit tattered around the edges.

Secretly she longs,
To be proven wrong,
Yearning to release,
Her resplendent radiance.

Insomnia is my arch enemy. That, and bran muffins.

As I slowly drool on the fine film of cigarette ash that covers my desk, I find myself reflecting on past events. What could I have done to change the outcome of my short lived marriage? I wonder if she still loves me? I wonder if ANYONE will love me? Man I shouldn't have eaten that beef jerky...

And then I realize something.

I have no off switch.

I mean, most people can say fuck it, and make themselves fall asleep, right? At least that's what I hear from the "normals." I'm not sure if I was born without a mental buffer that allows me to stop thinking in general, or if it was just destroyed over the years by reading one too many novels. Perhaps it's for the better.

I think my feelings about my insomnia are the same about my lack of general ignorance. I wish I was ignorant sometimes, until I realize just how retarded it sounds to say that, and to trade mental prowess for a good night's sleep seems just as retarded to me.

But, the down side is as previously stated in the first paragraph. I think about things I need to let go and forget about. For example, it's been a year and a half almost since Andrea split, and I still beat myself up over it. Whether it's because I miss her, or I'm jealous at how simple it seemed for her to just give up, I'm not really sure. The fact remains that...

It doesn't really matter.

What's done is done, and the logical portion of my brain knows that I should pick up the pieces of my shattered psyche and move on with whatever life I can make out them. Which is funny, because I argue with MY OWN GOD DAMNED SELF about being a silly emotional mess.

I mean, I look at it this way. I'm at a point in my life where one of two things can happen. I can sit here and rot, or I can move on. Both positions include being bitter, swapping between all consuming hatred of women in general and re-living past mooshy events, and plotting the demise of certain people for shits and giggles...

For now, though, it's sit and rot. I know what I should be doing, and how to go about it, but I just lack the motivation to care right now. You know, the typical jaded life outlook that comes after being fucked over with no warning. As jaded as it may sound, I know now that nothing is for certain, and it's turned me off to having a relationship. Seems that there'll always be someone out there who's better at everything than me, and knowing my luck, whoever I'm with will get fed up with my bullshit and go searching, as it's already been proven.

So that leaves me with a couple of thoughts.

Get a shitty job, apartment, car, and woman that doesn't dry heave at the sight of me, and claim to have a fulfilling life? Or continue with my current situation and at least not want to off myself while I live in relative happiness for a bit longer...decisions decisions.

Also, fuck bran muffins.