- by Michael -

Once upon a time, in an unpleasantly warmer place and a darker place than this, we were all so very hopelessly in love with our own destruction. And we knew it, too.

But we didn’t hate it - as much as we said we did - and the fact of the matter was that we didn’t know how to feel completely full without it. It was, after all, the most interesting part of ourselves. It was dirty and it was gritty. It clung under our nails when we’d bite and claw at one another from behind sad and calm eyes. It was a rush! The Hurt was so easy to get and give and burnt everyone’s nerves like an easy drug, and it was so powerful and so colorful - that blend of self-inflicted feelings - that none of us even bothered to figure out how not to get drunk off of it. It was every shade of red, from a hot coal to the dried scabs on our arms and legs. It was a passion so easily consumable, even easier to feed.

That swelling in our heads when we sat alone.
The purging of festering heat from behind our poorly crafted masks of civility when we’d scream at each other.
The taste of bitter tears and the salt-crusted veins they’d paint on our faces.
That hollow, aimless staring at the dark without a thought in our head as we lay there motionless, absorbing the harshness of the fact that we willingly did this to ourselves and the universe refused to stop us because it was just as empty and cold as we were in those moments.

What contrast. What break in the monotony. How profound we were. How special. How vacant.

If that wasn’t love, it sure as shit would do until the love finally got here. 

And other excellent ways to get funny looks from people who have just realized they might be the good, god-fearing sort

Anyone who complains about the process of receiving a modern tattoo has probably never felt real pain… true, mind-blowing pain in his or her life.

it’s because they are all treasures.
they are quite literally entirely unique.
simply because I like them. 

but i like it. it’s a good sore. it’s a sore that reminds me that i worked my ass off today. that i worked my ass of yesterday. that i’m getting better and stronger. it’s a sore that ensures i’m feeling something. every tiny movement is significant. like i’m honestly alive. it’s proof that we are supposed to test our limits and expand our potential. that living is challenging and challenging is living.

The secret to eternal, everlasting happiness: wanna hear it?

the secret is to…well, never be happy. never be really, truly happy. happiness is finite and relevant only to suffering. to feel a strong, honest happiness, you have to have a reference point of pain and suffering countered with desire. this means that suffering is relatively finite but so is happiness.

Fuck that noise. Fuck anything finite. Anything less than immortality is a waste of time and anything less that consistency is just fuel for more negativity.

So the secret? What is it really? Don’t ever be too happy. Don’t let yourself be sad. Forsake both sides and settle for complacency. Total, neutral, unabashed complacency.

It isn’t happiness, so it isn’t positive.
It isn’t sadness or anger or pain, so it isn’t negative.

It just is.
And i’d take 24 hour, round-the clock and calendar complacency over any period of depression (countered by brief moments of honest happiness) any day of the week.

It’s what economists call “practical.” 

And the fucked up thing is we’ll LIKE it!

But I like setting myself up for pain and misery, it seems.

Maybe I’m destined
To live my life lonely
Die without a friend
I doubt you’ll even know me
But you’ll hear the sound
As I fall to the ground
Cause I’ll shout it out loud

No pain no glory

I’m still kickin’ it
Don’t worry
And if you’re still listening
To this story
It is something for me
It’ll never bore me

No sacrifice
No  pain
No glory

And here it is
The story that never ends
I’ve been here before
Now I’m running back here again
Wasted in my mind
Depressing me over time
Love is like a roller-coaster
I’m just waiting in line 

IT’S BECAUSE I’M NOT, NOR HAVE I EVER BEEN A SHIT PERSON TO YOU OR ANYONE ELSE.

not deliberately. not if i could help it.

…but i am fucking pathetic and disgusting. i will give you that.

excuse me while i just go fucking kill myself.