I figure this will be my last post on this website.  I don’t really come on here much.  What I thought was a website, to actually blog and write my feelings, quickly turned into a site full of reblogs, porn images, music I dug, and people I knew I was never going to meet.  I found myself being exposed to things, on this website and off this website that I never thought would be “me.”  But I am glad they happened.  I spent most of my time last year, in a cold apartment, with a roommate who was mostly gone in Alaska.  I experienced a lot of solitary days and nights, sometimes accompanied by someone else, most nights accompanied by Weakerthans records and neighbor’s who loved to scream at one another in the midst of a cold night, about one not fulfilling the other.  To say the least, I grew tired, often, of the hand I had been dealt.  I grew increasingly more angry.  All the while improving my physical health.  

That’s not to say my mental health did the same.

I worked a job that sucked most of my remaining good attitude, out of me.  Providing me with long days that turned into nights, and a superior who was far to in over her head, to every really sit back and see the problems.  I got work loads, upon work loads dropped on me.  To the point where I found myself becoming physically ill.  I would come home, ignore the world and work out, knowing I pretty much only had control of that situation in my life.  I filled my remaining hours with alcohol, things I couldn’t afford, and the hope that someone would come over and just listen to what I had to say.

I looked, and looked, and I found myself being incredibly underwhelmed, or incredibly confused about my life and the route it had taken.  I had no one to talk to come the end of January.  Which left me all too much time on my hands to think, and think, and think, and hate, and hate.  And eventually drive myself to what felt like utter insanity most nights.  I would stop looking, eventually, right in time to have someone come along who I thought I felt something with, or just really wanted to fuck.  And I found myself hurting people on a spectrum that really doesn’t make a lot of sense to me at this point in my life.  It made me want to close myself up in my room, and freeze to death.  

I just wanted to be left to my vices.  Left alone to be ignored, which at the time made sense to me.  Because you can’t miss what you forget, and I really needed to be forgotten.

I don’t remember much about 2012, at this point.  I mean, I pretty much do, I remember everything.  But it all kind of feels like a cloudy montage of things I can’t really seem to understand anymore.  

I’d like to forget it.

Eventually forgive it.

All of the red wine, the brave naivety that I swore I would never gain, the trust, the lack of conversation.  The slurred words, the whispered “fuck me’s”, the shaking of hands, bodies, and beds.  The sex.  The smell of cigarette smoke in my room, from the previous tenants. The tar that was never cleaned off the blinds.  The different colored hairs I would find through out my bed sheets, the girls whom they came from.  The ones I wanted there, the ones I wanted out.  The one I really fucking wanted there.  The reasons it didn’t happen.  The selfishness of all my actions, all of my words, all of my behaviors.  The friends lost, the friends gained, the friends regained, the conversations about my giant fucking failures, and my giant fucking successes.  The idea of being content, and happy with myself.

I want it all gone.  ”Because I’ve seen what living’s done to those alive”.

I don’t want this to be the best year I’ve had, because that would mean I have no further to climb.  And we all know that’s not true.

It’s Jan. 2nd, 2013.  I’m going to take a shower and wash myself clean of the things I can no longer worry about.  Thanks for the words Mike.