why. . .

You know, even as I type this questioning statement, I continue to think "why bother? why type this out on something that probably no one will ever read?" And I'll be damned if I can come up with an answer. Hell, maybe this blogging crap will become a new way for me to vent about stuff. Might actually contain more then that notebook I used for a journal for a few months. Lotta good that did.

So today, in addition to further dying in gym (I'm just waiting for my lungs to fail and kill me)(I might go on about this some other time), I get home, fall asleep and have a really freaky dream. One that I freaking hated (for reasons that make more sense when the dream is explained, which I'm not going to do here). But afterwards, I wake up and look on xfire and hey, Brandi's on. woo. So I'm talking to her, and after about 15 minutes, she remarks that nerves are literally going to make her sick, but she doesn't wanna say because I wouldn't like it. I say "probably not. Say it anyway", and I was pretty sure I knew what was coming. So she breaks up with me, saying it just didn't feel right. And I freaking called it. From the impending sense of doom I felt from sunday, I knew it was only a matter of when. And so I'm now sitting here trying to not cry (don't need questions asked by the people here), still talking to her. Which she's starting to get sad because it hurt me. No shit it's gonna hurt, I freaking love her. And then she has to leave to do some band stuff at a basketball game. Between then and when she gets back, I go to a few of my good friends and start talking to them to get a bit of help, since though I can hide the tears, can't really stop the emotional destruction. And what fun that is >.<. She gets back on xfire, and I find out she's going back out with her ex. Which hey, I'm cool with, he's awesome. I think the whole week we were going out was really just a break from him, since he was a bit of an ass at one point. But I speak out of turn.

I guess this is kinda what I get for liking people. It probably would have been better if I had just never said anything in the first place and let the emotion die. Spare me 1 week of something akin to happiness, only to have it crushed. Violent. Again. Some day, I might actually find someone who cares enough to last more then a week. But I think there's more chance of me cutting my arm off with my knife, which it's a small knife so that's not likely. Already cut my thumb, which hurt (durrrr). Yay for sharp blades. 20 minutes of sucking down literal mouthfuls of blood followed. And very bland tasting blood. It wouldn't have been so bad if it had actually had a freaking taste. But no, it was dull, and kinda thick.

In a nutshell: gym sucks and is killing me, literally; I think I'm better off remaining single until the day I die, which'll probably be soon at the rate I'm going; and I kinda need to stop playing with my knife, even if it is fun. And I need to get some flavor in my blood.

Afterthought: if this is how this year is gonna go (based off the old crap that the first few weeks of a new year kinda set the standard), put me in cryo and wake me in a year. Or don't. It doesn't matter to me much right now. Wake me 5 minutes before the world's supposed to end so I can watch.

Closing thought: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!! And yay for insomnia. And I just lost the game. FML. Seriously, FML