"i love you too" she breathed gently into my ear, pushing herself against me. The feeling of closeness in my chest, as it tightens up nervously, how those words didn't just come out right, now I feel the weight of what happened choking me, my breath on the night air becomes thin even as little clouds puff out, contrasting the heat of my body against the cold sobering blanket of reality. Reality.. Constantly pulling and plucking at my every thought, can I not escape reality for just a few moments? Is that so crazy that I just shouldn't even try? And even if I did the methods that I would use would only bring shame upon me. Seeking human comfort is gratifying, as my one friend pointed out earlier to me through a neurotic, however heart filled rant this evening, my isolation is one of a self imposed nature, created from failing my own expectations. For once in my life I let myself down, and looking at my past that's a tall order to say the least. I've caused my self to run out of options. I like options, having a plan in the back of my mind makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I despise the monotony of my life. The feeling of being trapped makes me sick to my stomach, literally. The thought of doing something like this for the rest of my life is a specter that haunts me in my every waking moment [and sometimes it bleeds into my dreams], but no matter how much I hate what I do or how I go about it, I cant ask for help. If I ask for help I will most likely receive the same callous advice I give to others. And that thought truly frightens me.
Yours truly
Johnathan R W Calma











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Fuck I Hate Cobra Starship... So Much
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"It's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark and we're wearing sunglasses."
Blues Brothers
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*Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace.*
Oscar Wilde
Retro 50's with a fetish twist.
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*Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace.*
Oscar Wilde
hows it?
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Fuck I Hate Cobra Starship... So Much