#704.

i rub my eyes and they dry, turning red. inside my head, a voice tells me that i'm tired, that i'm a candle that's burnt its last. i'm at a dead end, hit a brick wall. i don't know where to go.

seven years have come and gone but i'm hardly wiser. the years have hardly been wasted. some of the years have been good.

others have been miserable.

but it was good knowing that a few of those years had you in them. how good life is with someone and all that...malarkey. you'd tend to believe in it, if you thought yourself ready for dreaming of something more. everybody wants something more, so why can't we? why couldn't we?

where'd we go wrong? where did...i?...go wrong?

sometimes i think that it's genetic. that i wreck anything i touch, anything. from a piece of string that was a solid line to something very tangled. to my own life. i never meant to wreck it for you. because wrecking it for you would've meant wrecking it for me.

strange, that i'd be so willing to dispense my worst upon myself? self-affliction's a bitch. and i, a son of one.

but i wrecked it, nonetheless, and after doing so, saw firsthand the lunge that i took into some kind of sick desperation. being young, naive, immersed into a dreamworld i'd kicked myself into because you didn't want to join me there...i wasn't crazy. there're probably simpler ways to put all this into perspective but i can't find the words right now. this pretentious passage of passive poppyshit is the best that i can do. pardon the bad alliteration at the beginning of the last sentence.

seven years, at least one and a half of them with you, and they still bite.

even when they shouldn't have. i think that people usually let themselves feel the pain because they love wallowing in self-pity. oh, me and mine have faded away, the rant goes on and on. lament, lament, it goes on. and on. and on. until there's none left.

then we find more things to rant upon. that's what we are.

me? i rant about the same things. it's always there, you know. regret.

better to regret something you did than something you'd never done.

i miss you, you probably know that. you've heard it before, you'll hear it again. in a childish way, i'll probably hold this to the day i die. even if things do work out fine and chummy for me. something's left a scar in me. takes forever to heal, especially in moments like these when you're in the dark. and assessing the past. making a list of rights and wrongs, dos and don'ts, wants and want-nots.

there's always an element of risk and regret in life. i still don't know how to handle the latter.

i never wanted to hurt you but i did. i guess that if i really cared, i wouldn't have. is this true? could i have been less careless?

i don't know where i am now. i'm nowhere, i'm going nowhere and i've been nowhere. i wasn't nowhere when i was with you. it's not strange being lost. it's just sad when you realize that you are. i've done nothing in my life that would warrant having you. but i feel that i need you and that it would only be right for it to happen the way i want it.

selfish, isn't it?

i feel like a failure on so many different levels that i don't really know where to start.

i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i don't know what else to say to you.