In fault of the recent events in my life, I have been rendered a shallow, emotionless pool of a human being. It has been brought to my attention more than once that people in my life have taken notice to my mental downfall. For that, I am sorry.

I never meant for things to become uncontrollable. In fact, for someone as insane as I, I prefer at least some sort of reign over what takes place within my own life. But, because of certain circumstances more than half the entire fuckin' human population is aware of, my life has become an inconceivable mass of reminiscent flashbacks.

In all honesty, I am trying to recover from this. To move on. To find something--or, more preferably, someONE--else, something less... "moveable," per say, to invest myself in. But, as of now, I'm still at a loss of such thing. No, I cannot give you a certain date or time when I will truly be able to say that I'm "over it." In fact, I can't even imagine getting over this. Ever. I don't even know if I want to.

For the record, I hope for all of you tiny little minions to get over yourselves. Yes, I'm still hung-up on it. Yes, I still am "dans l'amour." And no matter how many times you whisper behind my back, illustrating how I never had "it" in the first place, I will not be recovering any faster. Because, even though I wish very much to do so, I don't believe that I will ever be able to wake up one morning and ask "who's he?"

Peace out, and always remember....

"Sex is not the answer. Sex is the question, yes is the answer."