That was the first thing that came to my mind. As a matter of fact, that was the only thing that came to my mind. I'd heard stories from my friends about people doing ridiculously stupid things when they were depressed or going through emotional shit, but I never expected to be one of them. I never wanted to be one of those stories that started out as "I got really drunk and…" or "so my parents went out of town…" and I guess I kept my promise. My story starts out with:



It's sort of sick how the world gives you clarity after everything is all said an done. It's twisted that way. It leaves you lying half naked in the arms of an ex girlfriend while her current girlfriend sleeps naked on your other side. Fate has to have a sense of humor. That's the only explanation I can find.

I must have been staring at the crack in the ceiling for hours. Of course I wasn't really looking at the crack, it just gave me something to focus on. I was thinking. Usually that's what I find myself doing. I was lying there trying to think how in the hell I'd managed to get myself in giant clusterfuck I now found myself in. And fuck you Microsoft Word, clusterfuck is a word.

It was all wrong. There was nothing about the situation that was right. The place was wrong, the touch was wrong, her kiss, her smell, the way she breathed, the way she tried to comfort me…all of it was so incredibly wrong. I didn't want to be there. All of it felt empty and hallow. Instead of making me feel better, it left me feeling like a jack-o-lantern with my insides scooped out. I don't know why I expected something else. Finally the room seemed too crowded with lies and I had to get out. So I watched the cats stare at me for a while. Sleep was impossible, that much was for certain. Especially since the cats would jump on me at random intervals. What we had done wasn't sex, or love making. They had fucked me. I never understood the difference until that moment. There was no emotion, no trust, no feeling. It was simply fucking for fucking's sake. I never wanted to do it again. I can't understand how hookers can lead a life like that. I can't understand how people can settle for one-night stands. I was weak and craved human touch…instead all I got was a lie and sore legs. The real kick in the teeth is that now I know exactly what I want but I can't have it. I may never have it. All that bullshit I spout about dying alone being eaten by cats may just turn out to be a self fulfilling prophesy. But at least I learned my lesson right? Of course every action has a price. It appears mine is being in love with a girl I can't have and still being friends with her so that I get to listen to her as she tells me about the boys she likes and how she's going to get them to date her. I can't heal a broken heart if I don't have it. She still keeps it on her dresser…