I have come to realize, that I am just as guilty as those people I hate in life really. I absolutely hate this imperfection because I do try my best to avoid putting myself into situations where I could possibly have thoughts like this.

I told myself I wouldnt care, or even consider attachments, but again I have failed. Well not really, however just the thought that I had does support the fact that I did fail. I have come to yet another point to make a decision. It seems these days that I do this to a lot of people, all of which have just come and gone in my life. Sure those that stuck around have been great, if not the best. But still.

The point of the matter is, I actually enjoy making the same mistake over and over. The simple nature of it makes it truly pathetic. And the solution is so simple. Nothing should matter, things are so much easier for me when I just dont care. While there was a time in my life where I was at that perfection, I can vaguely piece it together. Sure there was still that void in me back then, but atleast, I was perfect without remorse.

As long as I tell myself these things every time I sleep, I will wake up to believe them. I will believe them. Should it really matter to me if they are lies? Fiction I feed myself to hide from everything else?

I hide from a lot of things, but even more so than one could imagine. The world around me, just is so alike, but dislike me. While sometimes it seems I want something, I really dont. They are all mistakes really.

Everything is a mistake, and therefore it wouldnt matter the result.

I just dont know, why it came over me like that. All this resentment and anger combined with a feeling of desire. It is hard, looking at it right now, and realizing what it is.

Me.

It just saddens me, I know how this story ends. With life, you hope that for every day you live, you see something new, enjoy something or remember something. For me, i am living, the same life, over and over, on a daily basis. The same story, different people, same result.

Nothing.

How truly saddening is that thought. So depressing, but it just seems so trivial at the same time. I long for that feeling of emptyness, without a single shred of remorse. Nothing, but pure greed. Really, I remember those days.

The issues that are at hand right now, wouldnt have been a problem back then. The situations are getting worse and worse with each story I write myself.

It'll end, the same way, as everything else.

For that, I have faith.

Close my eyes, and feel the chilly air around my body. I know what happens next, and until the story changes. I will just pretend to act surprised, when everything falls apart again.

But really, this time, I wont be surprised.

And it'll be different in one way. I'll be happily sedated each night, to the point of forgetting what happened.