river

i find it running dusk away
and in the light it quivers
while downstream thunder drives the rain
into my lonely river
i shed my clothes beside its banks
and wade into the glimmer
above the sky beings to break
and falls into my river
the coldness of whose kiss belies
a reticence that differs
from blue things in my hands that died
and at my touch have withered
upon my back it pushes me
i watch the sunlight shiver
it pulls me downward with its stream
and rises just a sliver
inside my ears erupt the drums
and over me it slithers
i draw the sun into my lungs
and descend beneath the river

here's some stuff

i never want to outgrow my ability to be childlike

everything on this earth is magical and is filled with the ability to do something amazing and worthwhile

i want to do something worthwhile

i refer most miscellaneous things as "ditties" even though they aren't at all musical

i would choose music over food if i had to

you better not make me have to

regardless of as much pain and bitterness i have experienced in my life i still have never associated love with pain

however it is that you feel, there is a Shakespearean expression for it

"listen to the dull and ignorant, for they too have their story"

sometimes i act like a bitter cynic, but only because i think cynicism is funny. it's my inside joke with myself. by the same token, i also campaigned for cthulu as president 08, but i (secretly) think he wouldn't have made a good president. i'm not even sure if i believe in cthulu. but don't tell him i said that. i value my vital organs

protecting the weak and spoiling my loved ones gives me an erection

i know when i'm in love when i imagine myself washing the other's dishes while singing at the top of my lungs

i am the most beautiful person on earth and so is everybody else

and whoever you are out there

i love you

i love you

i love you

twenty years of snow

Twenty Years of Snow

I look out of the window over the headboard of the bed. I’m lying down, incapable of moving, and because I’m upside down the grass below becomes invisible and all I see is the smooth white of the sky, backlit by the sun and blinding me with gray. The trees next to my window are all dead and leafless and the sharp branches beat against the roof like a metronome. Were I to turn over I’d see a warm day, grass overgrown on the ground, patches of blue in the distance fighting against the dominating white clouds, cats stalking each other in my back yard, angry honeysuckle threatening to choke the broken boards back by the fence. But from this perspective, everything all blank and white and cut through by sharp tree-lines, I am staring into a blizzard. One of those so powerful that it obliterates all the noise and the color around it. It’s quiet in the house.

My fingers begin to twitch and shake toward the bottle a few inches away from me on the bed. They move forward and take hold of it. They knock away the note from Timothy taped to the bottle that says, “Prescription for your foot. Gone to movies with Jonas.” They twist off the top and take out one of the oblong white pills inside and put it in my mouth. My mouth agrees, and swallows. I count, four, three, two, one, and my fingers are calm in anticipation of peace, and let the bottle slide away.

My eyes swim away from the snowstorm above me and fix on a picture of Tim and I beside the bed. It’s an old photo. So old that he still has all of his hair and I’m still smiling. We’re both looking directly at the camera. No one could ever catch a picture of him looking at me. So now I have a thousand tiny documents of what his young, grinning face looked like, twenty years after the fact because I have no clear proof of its ever being directed right at me. This one was taken at a concert. We both look happy, excited. Timothy’s eyes are gleaming with the same mischievous light that Jonas has. It’s in the brightest spectrum here right before the drummer chops out his beat and the singer shouts one, two, three, four! and the we scream and dance and sing. I like this picture. The light is there. Timothy always looks so happy, even when he’s miserable.

He never laughed at my jokes. His eyebrows would rise in the middle and come together and he’d give me a half-smile and make some comment about how weird I was. I laughed at myself with all my heart because I knew that this trait derived from some kind of natural reserve rather than from indifference to me. I knew this because I was the only girl whose hand he would hold at the movies. I was the only girl who offered to pay for his meals just for the pleasure of knowing what he’d order. I wasn’t a whore and other people liked me. I knew it because when I asked him to marry me he said he would.

Twenty years pass and the momentum of my own tenacity sees me hurtling forward through our half-finished hallway with floorboards pulled out and nails strewn over the cement. Timothy has a friend outside on the porch. They are sitting, smoking cigarettes. I watch from the window as Timothy watches her with the usual light dancing in his eyes. I had stepped out with them a moment before. I introduced myself, and told a funny story. She laughed with her hair thrown back. Tim nodded at me, began a new conversation with her about Jonas. I walked inside the house without saying anything. I keep watching. She says something to him, low but with wild hand gestures almost like mine. He laughs with his head thrown back. My stomach hurts and I dash through the battered hallway. I see the nails point up on the floor, but my legs decide to keep running over them. Tim finds me staring at my foot, curled up on the floor. When he carries me to the car we pass a mirror. My teeth are showing, stretched out mouth. I almost look like I’m laughing.

Twenty years and two days and I am here and my shivering fingers are stretching toward the bottle again. My eyes are dry and staring and don’t want to look at Timothy’s picture any more. They turn to the bottle in my hand, read the label. Do not operate a motor vehicle. Risk of addiction with prolonged use. They watch while my fingers undo the cap, take out another white pill and pop that one into my mouth. My mouth agrees with this again, swallows again. Four, three, two, one. I will be at peace.

My eyes fall back and continue to take in the image of the blizzard over my head. The black branches are stark against the glaring white sky above me. The scene reminds me of one when Jonas was just a little boy. We went on vacation to Maine one Christmas. He had never seen snow, and we only had on rare occasions. While we were there a storm blew in, and even though it was late at night we woke Jonas to go outside and play. We were all still young. Timothy still had quite a lot of hair. I still believed that the brightness of his eyes was all for me. I still thought that knowing what he ordered at every restaurant and giving up all the space on the bed to him and holding his hand at movies had something to do with love. I thought his reticence was somehow proof of feelings that would outgrow their shell in time and bloom under my care. He smiled. He did laugh, but never with his whole body.

We played in the street in the middle of the night. Dangerous, and cold. We didn’t care. We taught Jonas how to make an elementary snowball and he was so excited that he threw all the practice ones we helped him with right back in our faces. We played tag in the storm with him. I was so full of pride in them both just because they were alive. The light in both their eyes shone in the dark and dazzled me completely. We all giggled like children. We threw chunks of snow at each other when we could no longer shape snowballs. Our noses ran and our skin turned pink and raw. Our mouths dried out because we were laughing all our breath into the sharp air. Jonas took his gloves off so Tim could rub life back into his hands, and he tried to jerk them back on and run back into the street. He fell, and skinned both of his hands on the frozen ground. The streaks of red in the snow frightened him and he started to cry. I was the first one to him. I dabbed his hands with the cloth I used to clean my glasses and kissed them both over and over. I told him that I was going to count back from four, and when I was finished his hands weren’t going to hurt anymore. He looked at me, tears turning frozen and shiny on his cheeks. I held his two little hands in mine and asked if he was ready. He said he was.

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

I tugged his gloves back on him and kissed his forehead. He turned around immediately and ran back to Tim. I looked at my husband and through the haze of the night it almost looked like he was smiling. Laughing. Right at me.

I hear the front door creaking, doorknob turning. Timothy must be home. From the voices I hear it seems Jonas has come with him. My fingers reach again for the bottle, but it is empty. I feel myself begin to sink into the bed, and panic. My bloodshot eyes search for somewhere to run, but I can’t run. Twenty years of snow. Twenty years of strangers looking at each other through a thick mist. No shell, no bloom. He answered only because I asked. But I will do what I have been doing for the last two decades, and I will count backward to a time when I didn’t know any of these things, and I will continue.

Four…

Three…

Two…

One

supermeme!

1. Which celebrity would you like to meet and why?
uh. hmm. javier barden. james mcavoy. daniel day-lewis. cate blanchett. viggo mortensen. to see where they get their secrets for being amazing

2. What do you do before bedtime?
usually i read

3. What will your dream wedding be like?
i've thought of multiple dream weddings. i now have yet another setting in mind

4. What is the city of your dreams and why?
the city of my dreams is the country.

5. Are you an introvert or extrovert?
depends. i'm extroverted about everythin but what i care about most of the time

6. Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?
being loved. loving someone at least in my case isn't a blessing. it's a given

7. Do you trust easily?
no

8. If the person you secretly like is already attached, what would you do?
brood and simmer. as per usual. or i try to be bff with her because for some reason that always makes it easier for me to deal with

9. Is there anything that has made you unhappy these days?
feeling ignored

10. Do you have a good body-image?
more or less. now get me on the topic of my face and i'll start bitching

11. Is being tagged fun?
no. i don't like running

12. What websites do you visit daily?
my two emails, two public profiles, and three blogs...yikes

13. Who are currently the most important people to you?
hard to say. they're all so dear

14. What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
nobody tagged me, i stole this

15. What’s the last song that got stuck in your head?
"it wasn't me" by shaggy hahaha

16. What’s your favorite item of clothing?
my supershorts, when they're ironed

17. What's better: to give or to receive?
give. especially when they really appreciate it. seeing somebody get that slow smile is the best

18. What's the first thing you notice in people?
their face. everything about it.

19: Would you have 100% safe sex with a stranger for $10,000,000?
if it was cool with my boyfriend. haha which i know it would be

20: What were your parents going to name you if you'd been born the opposite gender?
they weren't, i was a surprise

Timeline

I stood on the sun as I stared at the past
Wondering where on the line we lived last
And carefully looking I discovered the place
Where I had sunk into negative space
We stood in the room as the black night drove in
Knowing between us existed no sin
And it was so dark that I couldn't see you
Though I knew that your eyes were the most brilliant blue
Still the shadows crept closer and filled me with doubt
And all I could think of was how to get out
Because I felt sure that I knew what you'd say
Yet I wanted so badly to make myself stay
Ellipsis on your lips as I wished there was more
My heart exploded as I ran for the door
And if I could go back and relive that night
I'd set us afire and bathe us in light
I'd burn away even the deepest of dark
And refine everything that I hid in my heart
But though I stand here and I look at the line
There is nothing in me that can turn around time
Pangaea's been broken and the ocean is vast
Where are you going with those blue eyes downcast

auntie

I am officially an aunt!! Geoff's son was born this morning at 5:20 am. He was 6 ounds, 9 ounces, and his name is Lucian James Simmons! I love the name! So now there is Geoff, his wife Star, stepson Blaze, and son Lucian...it's a regular cosmic family! Hooray!!

lullaby

i know that in the end the last should come first but here i am tangled up in the dirt with the tears running through my hair like little rivers and everyone is staring at me as i shiver because i am pretending that this hard old ground is the same thing as my half-empty bed and i close my eyes as i lock my fingers around my head and try to rub out all the years that i spent wishing that you were here in my bed of earth too and it was never meant to be a grave but a cradle to share and i did everything i could to convince you that you belonged there and i don't know if it was love if only one of us cared but nobody knows how many lullabies i sang as the cries i heard pour from your mouth and your eyes rang out like gunshots in the night and maybe it was the way that i prayed over you holding your body by mine for the times that you weren't a lover but a child and i tried to draw out your pain with my hands but i guess i failed because you were the one that stood when i fell and you left me lying there contented at last with my name on your lips as the one who had plagued you so you opened your mouth and let it fly out and if it ever comes to mind again you'll only push it away yet remember before you go my son that whatever you gained you gained from my love

HAAAY

I haven't posted on here in a long time, mainly because I can't figure out how to edit posts on here so that they're private, which sucks and makes me mad enough to say screw blogger.

However, I am back, and so must discuss what's the haps with my life I guess (if anyone cares). Anyway, so I don't work at Chili's anymore, which is too bad because I was really starting to figure out the best ways to make money, and was having some fun. Damn you Tropical Sunrise margarita!! Oh well. Need to get a better job now anyway, once I have saved up three grand I will be posting my name down on the waitlist at the Links. Then I'll have another month or two to wait, which equals another one to two thousand dollars saved. The key here is to get a job that is not a load of crap since my rent will be about six hundred a month. And I'll live in Canton. On the upside, the apartments are brand new and tricked out with amenities up the kazoo. And living by myself means bills are small. So whoop.

What else has happened. I finally managed to dump my asshole boyfriend, which is super good, considering I'd tried like five times to do it already but he always would cry and make me feel bad. But then I decided that he was such a huge douche that he could go ahead and cry if he wanted and I wouldn't really care. Harsh but true. I got tired of being screamed at and called filthy names until I was a blubbering mass of goo. And chased around the house and shoved this and that way. And not allowed to speak to my friends or leave my house. And had to provide for his every need and whim or be guilted until I felt like a walking piece of shit. What an asshole. Jeezus. Also he couldn't understand what I was talking about most of the time because he had about half my IQ and ran over me when I tried to speak. Never get peer pressured into dating a needy psycho, my friends. Though it's a tough rule to follow because at the beginning you never can tell they're needy psychos. Thus, just don't ever date anyone.

Nowadays I spend a lot of time hanging out. I play a lot of cards. I watch a lot of movies. I sleep for twelve hours a day. It's been very very good. I see at least one person I'd like to see every day. I eat a lot of ice cream. Life is good.

My weekend has been a little nuts. I was awake from six am Friday morning till six am Sunday morning. Thirteen of those forty-eight hours I was partying. I survived on bursts of adrenaline and cigarettes. Sweet sweet life. I just woke up an hour ago after a nice solid thirteen hour nap.

I have two exams tomorrow, algebra and document formatting, neither of which I'm all that worried about. My grades in algebra vary from 92 to 105, so I figure I need like a...what...80 on the exam to keep an A? I pulled that number out my ass but it's got to be something like that. And in the computer class my grade range from 100 to 108 so I think that one is prolly on lock.

But anyway, whoever you are reading this, give me a call soon because I want to hang out with you, drink with you, play poker with you, build puzzles with you, have coffee with you, or whatever else it is that you like to do. And I totally miss you.

Tin Man

And this is what you've failed to see
Your father's coffin pulls on me
Your eyes, a boy just turned fifteen
They fall down to the floor and bleed

Ears deafened to the hymns they sing
Your mother twists her wedding ring
You're so far away you're smiling
As if it hadn't changed a thing

But then your vision comes back clear
And you are standing lonely here
Remaining so for six more years
Heart awash in unshed tears

Until the dam is broken down
And rages six feet underground
You're left for dead and hollowed out
A tin man standing empty now

But my dear, I too know death
I've clutched the blood unto my chest
And willed it life with every breath
I cursed whomever called me blessed

Yet for the one that I love best
To give you life, I give you this:
My heart beats inside your breast
So keep your eyes on me, and rest.

life as a house

So I've been stricken with the plague. Acute tendinitis in my right wrist, so my hand of choice is currently wrapped up in a brace. The restriction of movement is even more annoying than I thought it would be. Also, I stepped on glass Thursday night so I've got a big ol' gash on my left foot that I got to walk around on all yesterday and again today. And some kind of weird hive/welt/rash on my neck that itches and burns whenever my bloody lanyard is around my neck. Which is whenever I am at work.

Worked a double yesterday. Made a hundred dollars =/ My feet still hurt. Tonight is going to be a fucking zoo though on account of Jackson State homecoming. Even worse than yesterday. Lots of impossible to please young bastards that think a good tip is a dollar per person. I for one am not looking forward to busting ass for fifty bucks. Maybe I should call in and say my ass got attacked by the birds and the rest of my body is continuing to deteriorate. Umph.

I'm so goddamn bored around here. All I talk about is work so lemme see if anything interesting happened, if not to me, then at least in my general vicinity. Hmm...Melissa came back to Logan's, then quit again. Kid had surgery on his ass, but the pain pills they gave him are nada mucho. Will is advertising for the business at a car show today.

Nothing at all has happened to me lately. My life is so incredibly boring. I need more friends.

so here's a non-emo post.

got kicked out of my house the other day. wandered in a few days later and it was like nothing ever happened.

i have a cold sore and it's really pissing me off.

having a caribou lou party at my place tuesday or wednesday night. if you're reading this then you're invited. i'm totally serious. 151 rum, pineapple juice and malibu caribou baby. and much, much more. be there, or suck.

i think i might actually like a guy. what the fuck is that about. that never happens to me. usually a prick convinces me to date him and i fall in love with no intermittent 'like' stage. but yea. probably not happening anyway.

what do you do when you have nothing to live for?

do you just keep drudging through your empty and colorless life hoping that a purpose will appear and find you?

what do you do when you live for love and have none?

not for any person or any thing?

when you are utterly and entirely empty?

do you give up?

do you die?

is it really life if it has no meaning?

am i already dead?

narcissistic asshole

You ruined my life, you hateful, lying, despicable old man.

smoke

The stage is dark and empty. Jeremy, Rebecca, and Will stand in a line upstage of Bernard and Ann-Marie, with even spaces between them of about an arm�s length. Jeremy is at stage right, Rebecca in the center, and Will at stage left. Rebecca and Will are holding hands with arms spread slightly to accommodate the space. Bernard and Ann-Marie stand downstage of the others, next to one another, but not directly in front of the other characters so that each character can be clearly seen by the audience. Both of them keep their faces toward the back wall of the theater. None of the characters look directly at each other or the audience when speaking, and should act as though each line is internal, with minimal to no movement. A spotlight is shone and left on each character upon speaking, dimming when the line is finished but left on.

Rebecca (turning head to Will, but looking down toward the floor rather than at his face): I love you.

Will (turning head to Rebecca, also looking down): I love you.

Jeremy (looking toward Ann-Marie): I am not in love with you. But I do love you.

There is a pause. When Ann-Marie begins to speak, the spotlight on her is dim, and builds to the same intensity as the others only when she delivers her final line in the play. She alone is permitted to look at the audience when speaking.

Ann-Marie (to the audience): I used to rub salt in my wounds. I remember watching straight and stone faced as the knife would saw through my skin. Once was never enough. It had to be done hard, and back and forth, and again and again and again until the pain would finally roll in, sharp as dawn air, and the blood would leak out with each little drip drip drip until it cooled and hardened like magma. Then I would spit in my hand and pour salt into my palm until I made a filthy paste that burned even my unblemished skin, which I then took and scrubbed my cuts and seared myself like fire. The smoke was invisible, but I could feel it rising from the raging fire on my arms that stabbed and hurt and healed. I felt like I was letting the devil out. It�s all we ever wanted, just to let the devil out. The devil that burns our hearts up with pain and rage and desire. Let the smoke out. Breathe in. Breathe out. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, and the smoke, it overtakes me.

Another pause.

Bernard (facing the back wall and tilting his head slightly upwards): Can you love me?

The spotlights should now be shone with equal intensity on every character and then begin to fade a few moments after Ann-Marie speaks. The curtain is to be drawn and closed at the same time as the theater is finally left in darkness.

Ann-Marie: Do you love me?

my life

so this is my life as of now.

i work at logan's. mornings and whenever i feel like working a double. currently work is all that i do.

my roommate went psycho on me saturday morning after a long night of partying so i had to move back in with my parents. i need a new roommate and i'd prefer someone i knew. nick introduced me a while back to this girl named christina who had some roommate issues. she works at sal and mookie's and has really curly hair. i asked him to get ahold of her for me but i haven't been able to get that contact yet.

i need a new apartment.

my psycho ex roommate/friend has been telling lies about me to everyone that we know. so the kid and will and melissa may or may not think i'm crazy. but i'm trying to convince them that it is in fact he who is crazy. mr. psycho also says i made up the whole thing as some twisted way of getting back with the kid. but that would be ridiculous and counterproductive. if you know the person to whom i am referring, i warn you now to stay far far away.

living with my parents again sucks. but i don't think i can afford a new place on my own. if you're reading this and you need a new place to live holler at me.

i owe everyone money.

i need a slutty halloween costume.

i'm bored.

i watch too much espn.

mainly though, i just want to have a new apartment...

a lack of color

Everything that I used to do, to be, I now go through without feeling. The drugs, the drinks, the sex. Even the music. Go to work. Go home. Sleep. And everything I see, everything I do, I look upon with a gray sadness and know to myself, no, I do not love you. My dearest friends, my family, my life...no, I do not love you...I do not love you...I do not love you...

I look at my life and I pity myself. You drunk, you drug-addled whore. You brokenhearted wretch. You miserable fool. And for what, for what? What did I do to cause my life to be so meaningless? So lacking in anything resembling love or joy that its only worth is being worthless? Love is happiness, love is beauty, love is the most magnificent of the illusions. But pain is the truth. And I...I seem to exist solely for the purpose of drawing in and breathing out the truth. I am so unhappy, and will forever be this way, because I insist upon living and demanding and drawing out the truth. No, I do not love you. I do not love you. I do not love you. The only truth that there is.

And so I sit here and I pull my necklace and I pull my hair and I bite my fingers and I scratch my hands and I cut my arms. If you rub scrub salt over blood it bubbles a little bit. Did you know that? Did you know that you can pull five hairs at a time out of your head and won't feel any pain? Did you know that you can gnaw the skin off your fingers without feeling anything? When I was little I used to take needles and jab them through the thick-skinned parts of my hands to scare my friends. It doesn't hurt. But everything else does.

All of the questions I have ever asked have been answered, and answered truthfully. I do not love you. I do not love you. But the one question, the one that matters, the one that drives at me and bites me and burns me and plagues me, the most important question...why is it like this?

I don't know.

I love nothing anymore. I will never fall in love again.

And it makes me sad, to know that things must always be this way. To know that my life will forever be gray. Colorless. To know that I only exist in the negative space.

Without love, nothing else remains.

I do not love you.

Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does.

sadnesses

These things make me sad.


The sadness of being drunk.
The sadness of being sober.
The sadness of not feeling sad.
The sadness of sex.
The sadness of knowing the truth.
The sadness of believing a lie.
The sadness of pride.
The sadness of humiliation.
The sadness of feeling righteous.
The sadness of being depraved.
The sadness of work.
The sadness of passion.
The sadness of being passionless.
Gray sadness.
Anger sadness.
The sadness of knowing the future.
The sadness of knowing the past.
The sadness of remembering.
Friendship sadness.
The sadness of being alone.
The sadness of being surrounded.
The sadness of being lonely.
The sadness of beauty.
The sadness of unbeauty.
The sadness of being lovely.
The sadness of being unlovely.
The sadness of music.
The sadness of sleep.
The sadness of being awake.
Dream sadness.
The sadness of not being in love.
The sadness of being in love.
The sadness of loving nothing.
The sadness of loving everything.

where the heart is

let me tell you about a place called home.

home is the only place in the world where you can be without having to be anything at all. home is the place where you are loved and can have your love accepted in return. home is the place where you belong. home is a safe place. home is where you go when you have nowhere else to go. home is where you are wanted. home is where you feel whole. home is beautiful and lovely and completely imaginary. home is where the heart is. where the heart belongs. there is no place like home. there is no place like home. because home does not exist. home is a fantasy.

i sometimes think i have finally found a home, somewhere i belong, somewhere that won't cause me pain. i am so happy when i am there. i start to grow roots again. i start to believe in hope again. but then i am dug up, and uprooted, and thrown away, and it is always the same every single time. i am in so much pain i can't even begin to describe it. i can't even fathom it myself. even my broken hand can't distract me from it. to have to hear, over and over and over again, "i do not want you here. why won't you leave?" from the mouths of the place i once thought of as home, from the place where i was happy. to know that once again i am rootless, drifting aimlessly with nowhere to go. to know that i truly belong nowhere on this earth. i do not want you here. we do not want you here. a lost sheep, a kicked dog. i am more animal than man. the pain is more than i can bear. to be left with nothing yet again. to have my things packed for me yet again and told to leave the one place i finally thought i had found to belong. it is true. i don't belong here. i am always searching, searching for someplace to fill up the aching pit that eats away at my ever-shrinking heart, somewhere i belong, but always my searches are fruitless or the fruit they yield is poisoned. i do not know where my heart is. it is at home and home is lost to me forever. they do not want me here. and it is becoming again that i do not want to be here. i do not belong here. i do not belong anywhere. there so no such thing as a home for me to return to when everything goes wrong. i have no home. i do not belong. i do not fit anywhere on this planet. always searching and reaping nothing but pain again and again. i do not want you here. i do not want you. i do not want you.

stray dog, starving mongrel. feeding out of garbage cans to gain some kind of sustenance to last the day. eating whatever pill comes across my path to last the day. anything, anything at all as long as the pain will go away for enough time that i can fantasize being at home. that i can pretend i belong. that i can believe in the illusion of happiness. none of it is real. it will never be real to me. you do not want me. i do not want me. i belong nowhere and there is nothing i can do. broken hand, broken heart, broken dream. dream of being alive. i do not dream anymore. i do not see signs. i have nothing to make me believe that there is any reason to hope. home was all i wanted but now i understand it will never exist for me. you do not want me here. you do not want me. i do not belong. i am so tired of searching.

got my heart broken again. he dumped me and packed my shit. why does it always have to happen this way

---

I wrote this a month ago. And it's still god damn right

Never go searching for something better, because there is nothing out there. Nothing will ever make you any happier than you already are. Nobody loves you any more than you think they do. Plenty of them love you less. Everything is less than you hoped and exactly what you expected. Don't go through life thinking someone is going to save you. There aren't angels out there anymore. Knock and it shall not be opened unto you. Allelu, allelua.