Nice Guys Don't Have To Finish Last

Haha. FML.

Hope is a 4-letter word.

A very bad one at that. I use it too much, despite it being of no use to me.
Upon reflection, however, I am handsome…
That being said though, I say too much, use too many words, too often, two times too soon, knowing too well it is to no avail.

But I am mad north-northwest when the wind is southerly.
I know a hawk from a handsaw.

Perhaps my madness plunders not my perception, but by happenstance pervades my judicious discretion, sawing rations from rationality and a log from logic, yes, in my madness, I use a handsaw to see in the hunt, whilst I would use a hawk for my carpentry.

Or more likely, a ruse to rouse the ire of rubes, to rue ruin, railing, ranting, raving, reproachfully approaching rarest clarity while appearing wiley, but rough, wary, and weary of our ravaged worn world.

Disgusted, dejected, digesting rejected infections, crudely spewing redundant morose discretionless poetics in lieu of romantic affection, effectively affecting deceptions remorselessly written, wrongs rightfully given, cardiac larcenies and existential homicides, coincidentally coinciding with the contemptuous harmonies, melancholic symphonies, and the cyclically perpendicular lyrics of my perpetually maddening mind.

Utmost unease or darkest disease? Minor madness or chiefly mischief?
Uncovered discoveries recovered easily reveal only certain uncertainty, curtailed sincerity, curtained transparency, jaded naivete and obvious mystery.

Yay! Though I shuffle through the Valley of Death, I shall fear “No Evil”.
Evil is laughable.
An omission of Evil is truly terrifying in its deceptiveness.

Precision is key, especially when trying to unlock things.
So, to that end, or rather, back to the beginning,
“Haha. FML.”

juh-net asked: thanks for whatever that was, but stop trying to be my friend. It isn't going to happen. It's like you have this oblivious layer over you, it just prevents you from seeing what is really there. I'd really appreciate it and like it if you stop, I don't want to have to keep blocking you from every site.

You can choose to block me if you like, but that makes you the one oblivious from reality. Whether you don’t see me, or I don’t see you, either way, I still care, I always will want you to be happy, I’ll always want you to believe in yourself, and I will always believe in your potential, because there is no other option for me but honesty.
That doesn’t mean I want to be your friend, or date you, or be in your life, it just means I care about you.
That is reality, whether you acknowledge it or not.

Also, as always, I enjoy your poetry and creativity.

However, since I do care and you’ve asked me to stop, I will oblige you and not post any further comments on your page.
Hopefully me respecting your request is enough, but if you can’t accept me caring about you, then just block me and keep pretending I never existed.

I should have held on tighter.
~I would have if I knew.
I never thought that we’d be over;
~Let alone so soon.

Did you succumb to the distance?
Were we doomed right from the start?
Was there meaning in your silence?
Did you just not trust your heart?

All these questions left unanswered,
they’ve been weighing on my mind.
And I can’t seem to forget you,
God knows how hard I’ve tried.

I should have loved you better.
~I couldn’t love you more.
I still have your old letters.
~They still cut me to my core.

I read they words you write now,
and I wonder “Where was I?”
So, that wasn’t the real you?
Well, your smile never lied.

Memories running rampant;
Reminding me of all we said.
Your Doubt becomes redundant.
You’ve deceitful Voices in your head.

You don’t love me?
You weren’t happy?
You never thought I tried?

Fucking bullshit.
I don’t buy it.
Won’t you open up your eyes?

Is this the real you, hurt and alone?
Rejected, Defective, Unloved and Disowned?

You’re leaving? I’m waiting.
Please make it so.

My Love, you are drowning.
And you don’t even know.

I’ve Questions Unanswered, my regrets and my doubt.
New delusional you has it all figured out.

tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?

Jealous, Tumblrbot?
Because you have no human memories?
Don’t feel too bad. Human memories are overrated.
And flawed. Every time a person remembers an event, the memory changes minutely simply by the act of “accessing” or remembering that memory.
So regardless of what my earliest human memory is, I would be incorrect in my description of it to you. I wouldn’t even be remembering that event. I would be remembering incorrect recollections of incorrect recollections.
That being said, I don’t remember.