wallflower

just when i think i'm all evened out, i get reminded how profoundly fucked i am. nothing like a wedding weekend to reinforce how alone you are in this fucking gift of a world. you'd think i'd be used to it by now, but what's with ev-er-y friend of mine having a significant other? i mean, god love 'em (big imaginary god), and i ain't gonna begrudge anyone their happiness, but it's a bit absurd isn't it? like an extended gag? ashton kusher hiding in the bushes, making everyone kiss each other in front of me, just waiting for me to lose it so that he can get his cocksucking money shot.

not trying to be rude or an ingrate. it was a beautiful ceremony and lovely reception, and i got a cd signed by the original drummer of SKID ROW, and it was all exceptionally picturesque, and it was nice to see my friends all shiny and happy, but i felt like the hunchback being invited to the king's banquet. when's it malice's turn to reenter the living world?

indulge me in my cryptograms here, but i might get a clearer image by the end of this week. an early spring or six more weeks of winter. maybe another year of winter. maybe i've seen the last of the sun altogether.

i'm not really as gloomy as this entry might imply. i'm much, much worse. the rabbit-hole is an endless abyss, and malice hasn't even begun his adventure. sooner or later, he's going to meet the ground again, and it won't be gentle.