And so this is probably the thousandth time I've written about you. This is just another pathetic attempt to explain why I'm such a fuck up. Over what? A brief moment in time to you, to me too, but also an eternity. Yeah, that's my excuse for why things are where they're at, imagine that. If I felt like it, I could examine the truth. The truth is that I was fucked birth. Bestowed with a curse which happens to be the best gift I have to my name. Its all a game though, don't you see? All the things that are wrong with me? It boils down to denial, denial and apathy. Look at me, I'm fucking pathetic. Apathetic. Pathetic. Poetic? Fuck no. All these words rattling out of my fingers. through the keys of this machine, a machine that consumes me? Not quite. If I would only try. If only I could... why … I bet I'd just fucked up again. My specialty is just fucking the fuck up. Fuck it. And now I see, it wasn't about you at all. It was me. Just me. Who brought me to this state, oh wait... does that negate my good? Probably. Maybe. I don't know. This is dumb. Fuck it. I'm done. Selfish fucking child. That's me with my apathy, wishing I really didn't give a fuck.