Webs of deceit: now served all day!

I'm not really sure where to begin, so I'll just jump in...and let my Benadryl induced ramble begin. So here it goes:

Lately I've found myself feeling a lot like those useless crumbs, left forgotten at the bottom of the potato chip bag that's been tossed into the garbage can.

While this is a very true statement, I just need to take a moment to point out that I'm not going for one of those, "Oh, woe is me" kind of effects here. Simply, I'm just trying to state the facts. And while I'm not sure exactly why I've been feeling this way (nor can I pin point the exact triggers of these feelings to any specifics), it has just been kind of the general feeling I've been getting lately. From everywhere in my life. It's very real, and very harsh. Which makes it very difficult to ignore sometimes.

I'll be honest, I'm rather sick of this lingering feeling. It's tiresome to feel like some sort of disregarded, expendable waste. I don't want to be the leftover crumbs; I think I ought to be the main course and dessert all wrapped into one! Or at the very least, be one of the two. Either the entree or the dessert. Yes, I could settle for that (either/or...possibly both).

Is it so much to ask that I get to have somewhere I can feel as if I'm a priority??? Somewhere to matter. Somewhere I'm not a mere after thought. And more so, just to be a priority for longer than a moment. Just more than a fleeting moment. Not for some ulterior motive, but because I have some sort of significance. I'm just hoping to find some importance. Somewhere. Anywhere. Can't I have someone who thinks I take precedence? Someone to put forth some effort.

I once believed without a doubt that love was just a given. That it was coming at some point. That it would happen. Sort of that whole "Someday my Prince will come" sensation. These days I'm not so sure. I'm having trouble with the concept of love even on a more platonic scale, let alone the romance aspect of the theory.

And for that matter, how can you tell true sincerity in this world when we're all so surrounded by the fabricated lies that intricately web together social existence? Where can a person look and actually find a truly genuine interaction? Is candor fictitious? In any case, the world could sure use more honest people and less phonies. Good luck world. Good luck to all of us.

"All those fairy tales are full of shit. One more fucking love song, I'll be sick." --lyrics from the song Payphone, by Maroon 5

Time and time again I'm proven wrong when I think a person cares. Time and time again I tell myself I'm done, only to find myself letting my guard down again. Letting someone in again. Lowering the walls again. Trusting only to be hurt. Yes, time and time again. An endless cycle that I can't seem to break for the life of me. "Time after time"

Things are so hard to navigate when it comes to the uncharted territory of human emotions. Even within your own skin, within your own mind, everything can somehow be so foreign. Frustrating. Exhausting.

I only hope that if I ever do find that glimmer of true sincerity, I can see it. That if I come across a real, honest to goodness, decent person who actually does care and isn't lying, that I can tell. That I'm not too far gone, or too broken to accept it. That I can let it happen. So here's to grasping that piece of hope! Holding it dear to our hearts and to our souls. Onward we go. Ever moving forward. Life stops for no man, don't blink or you may miss it. Just keep your eyes peeled for those slim chances, and try not to let the problems bog you down or destroy you. At least not too much, perhaps just a little bit.



Oh and also, on another note:

Why is it that the arts are fueled so drastically by misery? My best writing comes from the moments I feel distraught. My best drawings happen while I'm disconcerted. You constantly hear about musicians' music suffering as they start to gain happiness. That they struggle to produce music once the doom and gloom fades. It seems most of the great artists of any time and any type suffered greatly in their lives. And produced their best work during those times of suffering.

Dear anguish, why must you be the best muse known to mankind? Why must you taunt us so? Seems like a cruel joke to me. Cut us a break, would ya? Kthnxbye. <3 /Me



And that is all on the rant front from me tonight. So until next time, just don't forget to breathe.