Lost, Apart, and Sinking Slowly

I keep asking myself what it is I am suppose to be doing with my time these days. Part of me thinks, "Whatever you're doing, that is what you are suppose to do, and that is that." Sometimes I think I'm being setup, or something. As if all these things; events which are no great ordeal in the eyes of others, but of which are personally trying to my character, and my heart for that matter, are happening for some unforseen reason, and I am to build from them. I know that every experience is to be learned from, and all that other generic banter that grandfathers, fathers, and anyone of any more experience would say, but I think its something more.

I thought about Like. The Likes that affect you. Have you ever just "liked" something, for no real reason you could put your finger on? Sure you have, you little devils. Those are the best kind, in my opinion. You like them, and you could probably name a million reasons why, and yet it still wouldn't touch on the feeling received; it still wouldn't properly do justice. I would spend my life finding out why, if given the chance, I think. I'm not touching any further on that one, for now.

The Trip. *Sigh... I will most likely have the money, and even if I don't have it all I'll still make a run for as long as I can. Fuck it. I need to go. My partner in crime is pressing me hard, with, I suppose, good reason, but I almost feel as if this trip is altered so much now that neither one of us is going for the same reasons. I think we'll both get out there and see some things and then reflect long and hard about our lives otherwise until we both know exactly what we are missing or not missing and run back home the long way. Sure, thats me being a shit and a pessimist, so I'll shut the fuck up now. Really, I don't necessarily think that, but I do wonder of it sometimes. I guess I still just can't picture myself out there before the road, at the mercy of my means. Maybe I'll stop somewhere and just stay. Forget about everything and everyone for however long I feel like and live for myself. You know, I haven't been going at it very long yet, but I generally feel like I am failing at this whole "Life" thing. I feel like a fucking dropout who has too much pride or too many excuses to admit when he's failed. Nothing ever seems to go quite how I wish it would. Man, tonight I guess I'm just full of bitching. Well, I'm sorry, dear readers. I just got turned down by this great girl. She wants the ex back, and I wish I never would have felt the way I feel. Everytime we see each other in the future now I will always feel like I wasn't good enough. At least I gave it one last good effort on my part. I know that it shouldn't be so bad, but I suppose I'm just now starting to learn that when you meet people you feel you have connected with it is best to keep them around and not fuck things up. This was not fucked up, but once not too long ago it was, and that one was because of me. I will only feel the deep, persistent pangs of regret in my heart at each thought of that person, and to see them would only cause me to feel like I were a rock, or a piece of ice, cold and cut off. Well, if you look at it that way, Karma is a real bitch. I try not to be such a shitty person, and then things as that happen and it only reaffirms my belief that I am failing this whole LIFE business. No real ambition, since I'm alone, I guess. This is a bit of a dark joke, so feel free not to laugh, but I don't even think under the worst circumstances that I would have the ambition enough to kill myself. Yikes, that's not like me at all, making grim and gravely remarks. "What happened to the Old Charlie, the one that used to be funny and stupid and have fun all the time??" Go fuck yourself. I hate when people say that shit. It's like I was their favorite sitcom, or something. Yeah, its great, cause my life's so fucked up and humorous that it makes you feel better. That's what I've been shooting at all along.
I'm tired, and even more tired of being tired from not sleeping when I should because I feel inspired to write shit like this down and pathetically hope for minds to change and say hello to me through my various outlets on the world-wide-fucking-web. Suffice to say, I now go to bed.

Relax. It's probably not really this bad, just momentarily unbearable. Maybe I'll feel better in the morning. I doubt it, but at least I'll have my stupid work to keep me preoccupied.

Fuck.

-C