It’s nothing.

Literally nothing. I just over-thought and stumbled. When I start going on ’bout it my life seems miserable (Bullshit! That’s what my rational part says and I agree) Venting – this is what it is. Thinking.

Loneliness has been on my mind for as long as love was – they both elude me; and they both torture me.

I feel like I missing out on something and yet I realize it’s such a crappy, archaic dogma that every time my chest constricts with unexplainable longing I wanna vomit.

Because – I have no right for it – I have no idea what it is, and, yet, I crave it, like a desperate addict, who is ready to do anything to get a dose.

Not that I will – I’m good at resisting, and even better at staying clean.

It pisses me off – the layers I acquired. I’m infected by society – like it or not – the virus is inside. It makes me feverish, but it’s not strong enough to make me forget my principles. Thus, I’m burning alive – slowly, with a sickeningly admirable stubbornness.

I feel it. I watch them knock, observe, try to touch and then they run, run, run….beautiful site. I cannot find enough humanity in me to chase.

Let them run.

I cannot keep them, even if I caught one. I’d forget something vital, socially acceptable, like a celebration or important date – speaking. Or, God forbid, I’ll find them irresistible and get overbearingly clingy.

Nor this, nor that side of me is likable. Not that I know – not that I’ve ever got a chance to know. It’s just a theory – presumption – idea.

Plausible idea.

Never-mind. I’ve been alone for as long as I can remember myself – shadows come and go – they disappear when not needed.

Though, I know not what loneliness is, because I have no one to miss.

So, I don’t have a right to mope. Life’s great. It’s just over-thinking.