• i'm slouchin at my cubicle listening to people talk about the problems they've created themselves.
  i volunteer at a suicide hotline, so in some ways you could say it's the blind leading the blind
  but i dunno what i'm doing

  do you?

  i think about the problems i've created for myself
  i'm overwhelmed and crabby from life's mounting pressure
  people are getting sick, people are dying, and all i can do is whine and listen to people whine
  
  i've stopped talking to a lot of people because i realized how i let so many people treat me poorly because of how low my standards were
  being alone is sad sometimes, but not as sad as being lonely
  my definitions:
  alone - no company
  lonely - no companionship
  
  i'm still holding up my wall of optimism but i feel like i built it too close to the ocean and in high tide my high hopes flow like sandy mud thru my weary fingers

  but i'm not scared of the ocean
  
  ---

  "I loved you
  like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
  writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
  loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
  cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom,
  but that didn’ happen. your letters got sadder.
  your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
  lovers betray"
  -Charles Bukowski, excerpt from "An Almost Made Up Poem"

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