Bitchy mistress

Maybe it's cuz I'm so weak.� I'd like to think I'm not.� I mean, honestly, I've got to be pretty damn strong.� It's just it always happens to me.

Maybe it's all the rootbeer I drink.� You've gotta love rootbeer.� It's like... beer... but.. rooty.� I don't know.

Anyway, there's got to be some foothold here that I can just grab onto and say, hey, look, i'm grabbing onto a foothold...

I mean right now I'm just slippy sliding down the slope going wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee while everyone else takes the ski lift they paid for with the money they stole when they mugged me at the mall and took everything I had (though the left the pretzel dog).

It might be too much to get, but I don't think it's too much to ask (for anyone to ask) in saying I just wanna live (*plays G.C.)

There's a major difference in living and merely being alive.� I mean I think it's obvious.� That's like saying there's no difference between dying and being dead.� I dont just want to have blood flowing and working lungs, I want to be something.� I want to have something. I need to have someone and be someone's.

Still, just as I'm convinced the cafeteria won't have any good soup today, I am that I'll never find it.� I've always on some level believed I'm destined to be alone.� I guess that's what I get for screwing with fate, huh?

I mean, look at this site.� At any given moment, several surfers will be looking in on someone's journal entry, right?� But how many will actually like what they see?� How many will actually leave comments, or try to form bonds with the person they just read?� How many people who had gotten comments will actually take the time to respond back to the responses?� You might say a lot, but relatively, it's not so much.� Look at your hit counters, and such.� Now, I'm not saying that everyone should comment on everyone else's and all the time.� I'm just trying to illustrate a point.� Of all the people in this world, only a relative few read your journal, and of all those people, only a relative few will comment, and of all those comments, only a relative few will get answered.

(*throws fit because is out of rootbeer)

It's the same way with love.� Out of all the people in the world, how many will actually come up interested in loving you?� Of all those people, how many people will actually be loved back? And of all those people, how many of them will actually be happy together?

Hardly any anymore.�

Sometimes it seems like more, but truthfully, you can't deny it.� This is a world of sin and glory.� Love takes a back seat to splendor.�

I wish it wasn't so.� I know in my heart there is true love out there.� I know deep down there are those few lucky bastards who have the real thing.� Still, I can't help feeling this is all futile.�

You ever been to NYC? Times Square?� Walk around for a while.� Take it all in.� Look at the billboards and fancy neon signs.� Check out the stores and look at all the people.� This isn't right.� I'm not conventionally religious, but still, could we be sinning any harder?

Don't answer that.

Still, something's got to give.

It's hard not to succomb to that either.� Peer pressure is a bitchy mistress, or something... whatever.� It's just, it's really hard to be around everyone doing one thing and try and do another.� It doesn't matter how right you think it is, or how convicted you are to standing by it, it can't be helped.

If only I could find a way that maybe it could.