Punctuation has no place here.

It's late, and I can't sleep.
I'm thinking of you.
The next time
(there's always a next time)
I promise
to myself, to no one
not to let it get me.
But it will, like always.
You're my route 66
and I'll get my kicks
all up and down
the roadmap that is your body.
Try to hold on to the feeling
of feeling loved
or liked.
I might get an arm
platonically wrapped around me
in the middle of a big bed on a dark night.
But you'll get all of me,
even the parts you don't want.
I might yearn some day for another
but for now
you're it.
You make it hard to move on from you
when I make it hard by moving on you.
And I know there are a million places
faces I could see, with me, not you.
I've tried a time or two.
But it's never the same.
It will never be more than this
with us
but I can't tear myself away
just yet.
I know it never will measure up
even slightly, to expectations.
But somehow, for now, this is enough.
And when it starts to get unbearable again
I'll just make that trip
for another day and a half
to fix me
for another week or two.

A spade's a spade.

It really amazes me how many people refuse to call a spade a spade. No matter how much glitter you dump on bullshit, it's still just that. Let's try this:
A spade is a spade.
A tree is a tree.
The sky is blue.
You put food on dishes.

NOT SO FUCKING HARD. (Excuse the language. No, wait, don't.)

So let's just also say a friend is a friend, not just a piece of ass, and not someone you can screw with, or just screw. You have to actually treat a friend like a friend. You can't tell someone who is essentially only your fuck-buddy that you're really great friends just so that you don't feel like a prick, especially if you're not gonna treat them like a friend. Although I guess you can expect that from someone who said they could have sex with someone and not have feelings for them, and that after you dump someone and break their heart you can still have sex with them. Grow the fuck up.

Stats.

REFERRING SITES
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Two people from India, two from France, one from Canada, and one from Australia are reading my blog? Cool! Say hello!

Also, someone found my blog by searching otterpopdisco. Odd.

It's so hard getting used to lonely.

If you're going to be weak enough to wreak havoc on my life, I'm going to be strong enough to keep you out of it. I am saying, enough, because I have people in my life that love me and support me and are honest to and about me. I don't need people in my life that are anything less. And I may like, or even love those people that are causing me grief, but I am working on weeding them out. And it may hurt, it may really really SUCK to lose those friendships, but If they're weak...I'm strong.

I really ought to see the signs and be used to this sort of thing now, but hey, I guess some people are too dumb to learn from their mistakes. Silly me... But this is my happy. And this is you. Do you see the distinct line between the two? No? Well then maybe you should look again, jackass. You will not interfere.

I can only give so many chances to so many people, only have my heart broken, my body used, so many times. I will everyone a chance, because everyone deserves at least one. I will give most a second, because everyone makes mistakes and most are forgivable or forgettable. But how many second chances can I give you? You don't get fifty, or one hundred, or ten thousand chances. And I try, I try so hard to stop this end cycle of give and take and use and waste and give give give always giving more. And I want you, and sometimes need you, need what you could give, what you could do, and I can't have you or any of that.

It's so hard getting used to lonely.

Love.

Love is patient, it is kind, it is fast, and it is blind. It ensnares and it binds, it lasts a moment or all of time. You have it once or maybe twice, you might have it your whole life. You want it to be yours, theirs, mine...

There are a million things you can say about love. Everyone wants to experience it, and everyone does, at some point, for something. Love for a family member, a friend, a mate, a pet, a calling, an object. We all love so many people and so many people and so many things throughout our lives. Sometimes we get lucky and the people, or things, we love love us back. Sometimes we aren't so lucky. Or sometimes we're picky, finicky, fickle, and don't want the love that is shown to us.

Love knows NO boundaries of age, religion, race, or gender. Love just IS.

I really have no idea where this post was going. I guess I just wanted to remark on what is obvious about a common subject. I've been meaning to blog more here, but I've also been busy trying to get my other blog, Hotel Hell, off the ground. It's been more difficult than this one. The aspects of getting it set up (naming, design, promotion [which is a slow incline]) are fairly easy to tackle once I've got a plan, but add in two other authors, and things can get tricky. We've not run in to any disagreements on anything so far, which is good. But, as the main developer, I need to run everything by the other two people and get their okay before doing anything. (Well okay, I don't HAVE to, but I WANT to out of common courtesy.) Not to mention the management of a blog, if you're serious about it, depends a lot on feedback, and we just don't get any from readers. I don't here either.

This is turning into an all sorts of things ramble, so I'm going to cut it short.