...and I wondered why my tongue was bleeding...

It seems less important to show your true feelings than to be truthful
lately. So many people I know are happily headed for disaster and yet
here I sit...slowly making a hole...separating myself from the herd with
my internal monologues and my cynicism.

All I want to do is shout it from the rooftops...wake the fuck up.
I just want to be brutally honest
with my friends and tell them how I feel when they ask my opinion.
Lonely is the road of the person who takes the higher one. Yet empty is
the life who fills it with people who blindly agree without substance.
Solitude is no stranger to me. Quietly I watch. Silently I sit.
Doomed. Future foretold by endless songs and and sad poems.
Drinking...smoking....pushing away from everyone. Angry, false, sad.
Horribly ironic.

Its so fucking interesting to watch the people I know
meet, hookup and slowly take the form of new people. So interesting. I
will regret every minute of being quiet. I will sit and be angry the
whole time. I will sit and quietly take my medicine. Because ..... is
this the repercussion of being social? Of wanting people I know to enjoy
each others company?I mean, I guess this torture device is of my own
design...my own fabrication, my own version...the worst version. The
angry version...I will choke it down, the words and wants and the truth.


And I will be a good friend for just nodding; complicit in their
schemes...the quiet observer who sees the waterfall ahead but chooses to
hope that the others in the boat will see it eventually before I have
launch myself off the side to save my morality in a last minute
manuveur. Perhaps I place too much faith in others' ability to make good
decisions.

I seem to be gasping for air to breathe, but others poor judgement is clogging the atmosphere...its almost as if bad choices need
oxygen to survive...leaving me scrambling to swallow the air in gulps,
lest fate's faults get to it first.