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i linger i sweat i bled i died i hoped i would rise again and i think i will

hmm. sigh.

i see stuff like this and at first i wish there were more clarity as always (how vain of me!) (and like that’s ever going to happen anyway!), but then in a second (a flash, really), i realize that it has nothing at all to do with me; i was only a brief summer fling after all. and i know from her deeds that she couldn’t have cared very much. not that much anyway.

i dunno. i just don’t know.

and i wish.

i wish that someone would… feel something like that, that heartfoolishly serious, for me. why do all the deserving saps like me get the shaft all of the time?

+ why can’t i just let go, just fall away from the cliff and learn to fly the hard way? damn me & my stupidity + othersuch foolishness. i will perform a paganistic ritual soon (on the next full moon) to rid me of this bad habit of hanging on to hopeless hope like a dopeless dope. i let on like i get on but i haven’t yet done.

tomorrow, no more whining. some ass needs to be kicked, and i know just the boot (mine), and just the ass (mine as well).

By jae

jae lethe (he/she/they) is a blogger, musician, artist, poet, web developer/designer, armchair philosophizer, teller of tales, and gadabout. Also, something he calls a "behavioral artist." (Not sure.) She has plans. BIG plans.

Among the things that he has done for a laugh are minor fractures, cuts, scrapes, and various scabs. Though she's quick to point out that they're no imbecile, we're fairly certain that he thinks the word means some kind of medieval pharmacist.

This is her latest home on teh internets - where jae stores their swear words, when they're not hurling them at the sun in vain.