but to love her is to need her everywhere

 Every day I say I'm going to sit down and pen these messy thoughts but every day I chicken out. I am tired. Every time I feel sad or upset or down or gray, I muster up all the energy I have and go fuck it, I'm fucking in Tokyo and I go out and do something worthwhile with my life. Today was not one of those days. The above depicts some of last week when my brother spent some time in my part of Japan, which he duly hated for being too fast paced. And I live here. The fucking amazing thing about Tokyo is that you can literally turn the street and hit a completely different part and pace of the city that you've never known could exist within such a straightfaced, asian city. I don't know if I'm making sense or writing coherent sentences and frankly I am too sad to care. Bitches be alone for the next ten days and shiz. It's not as bad as I had expected it to be. Not yet anyway. But then again, I spend all the time at home reading up on the Beatles and pretending that this hasn't happened to me. But it has. Perhaps the biggest tragedy of all is that even now, even after everything, every moment, every confession, I still doubt you and everything you've said to me. Because how can I, as a logical human being, believe you knowing that you've probably said that to her as well. How can I, as the person that I am, ever truly believe you? I know it isn't fair because how can you change the things you've done when I wasn't around and I know it's stupid but what's the point of saying these things, because I just fucking feel how I feel. I know what I'm like. I couldn't ever get over it. I wouldn't know how. It's not so much hurtful as it is embarrassing for me. It was embarrassing for me to sit there, years ago, and listen to your fucking profession of love or some shit.. and it's embarrassing for me now to have you pretend to me it didn't mean anything when let's just fucking face it. And it wasn't that I wasn't overjoyed for you and it wasn't that it made me not love you anymore, instead it was the exact fucking opposite of that. Because I think it fucking takes a lot for me or any other sane fucking person for that matter to still want you to be happy and still want the best for you in that fucking situation. But that night, the night was the night you became a stranger to me. It was the night I stopped being in that deep fucking disgusting love with you, not because I was bitter or resentful, but because I finally realized how fucking embarrassing and humiliating it was for me to be so stupidly in love with somebody who could put me down that much for someone else. Maybe you've always thought it was silly or that it isn't fair that I still harbour this feeling of jealousy, but it just is what it is.


Did she understand it when they said
that a man must break his back to earn his day of leisure?
Will she still believe him when he's dead?