18 March 2013

I don't know. Really I don't. I thought I did, but I don't.

Not that I expect much (or anything) so I guess I'm coming out about even. I just feel like there must be more, to make it all worthwhile. I feel so selfish, wanting 'things' my way. But why? Why what?

I feel that I should be drunk, or stoned, to be writing such utter bollocks. But I'm neither. My darling best friend suggested I see a hooker. She's been making the same suggestion as long as I've known her. I don't want or need sex. The things I need can't be bought.

She was right about one thing though; it's a good thing I partook freely when I could.

Now there's a useless observation. Like telling someone with AIDS that at least they had a good root. Truth is, all I want is to be loved and cuddled. I'd give pretty much anything for that.

Maybe that's what keeps me going, the stupid pointless belief that I might find love? I may as well give up now.