"It takes a long time to make love with someone who hates themselves"

I can't remember where I heard that, but it's true.
It took me six hours of trying to sleep outside on a garden bench getting that through my head though. I cut a can in half with my hand... almost. by the time I stopped there was a lot of blood on it. When you've been awake for forty-something hungover hours without proper drugs to aid you you start to get a bit silly to pass the time away. I really did start to wonder for a while there if I had gone over an edge I wouldn't be able to rescale but then I realised that it was probably just a combination of being drunk, being treated pretty meanly by someone who'd recently broken my heart and really really really fucking needing to go to sleep in a bed, preferably mine.
I have decided to view it as a good thing that the most recent of my conquests is an emotional retard for this reason; I got closer to him than anyone else ever has(world of good it did me, pfff), and now he let's people hug him, whereas before he flinched if people got within his seventy-odd centimeter perimeter. I don't deserve to feel crap because I made him feel good though, that's fucked. If I'm going to ever give any part of myself away to anybody again I'm going to take measures to try and make sure that they are at least slightly less fucked up than I am.

"in my life, why do I give valuable time to people who don't care if I live or die?"~moz

Shit is getting sorted out tho, soon I'll be an emotionally functional member of society who is keen to go out and make a fool of myself again and kiss cute boys.

I'm going to go now and drink my eighth cup of tea for today, smoke my bujillionth cigarette and draw pictures of horribly wounded boys in their underwear....