oblivious to the fact that I have nothing to lose, yet all can be lost. Tearing down the past only means that the present and future has to be rebuilt.
As time passes, I age, and as I age, that abitious self I once knew deteriorates. Fleeting is that drive to get what I think should be mine. That which I think belongs to me is the right of others, so who am I to interfere with the natural course of selection? Who am I to govern who selects who? I am just in the way of other's destinies. I am just in the way of other's happiness and longing.
Being told constantly that love comes when one least expects it, I cannot help but to look. And when I look, I don't see. If I am to least expect it, then who is to say I would want it at that time and period?
It is time to give up. I have tried tirelessly to the brink of insanity, and being insane will not be good for anyone. my best companion is my cigarette. It listens. It consoles. Ever understanding.