I am torn.

Between wanting to write. And wanting to go back to sleep.

Between wanting to breathe. And wanting to die.

Between adulting. And just turning off my phone. For a week.

Yet, life intervenes.

There’s this one girl. She’s fucking incredible. And I’m beginning to accept that I’ll likely never see her again.

Beauty is common. I’ll meet others. Some will also be fucking incredible. I have no reason to mourn this loss, yet I do. Perhaps, because in this area of the world, beauty is less common. In fact, it is rare.

No one cares here. So, morbid obesity is the norm. Add to that my face for radio, and you see why I might get attached to this one girl.

If you can make her hate you, you can make her love you.

And my petite li’l Puerto Rican girl lives somewhere in between. I think she’d rather not.

Last night, I met someone. At least I struck out swinging. Instead of looking. Maybe I am evolving.

Lord, was this girl tall. And young. And interesting. And interested? Perhaps...

Yet, as I lie here in bed the next morning, I don’t even know if I want to see her again. Even if she was quasi-attractive. And quasi-interesting. And did I mention she was tall?

I no longer mistake loneliness for love. And if she’s going to be a challenge, and make me WORK for being in her life... well, she needs to look like my li’l dime.

So much whisky was consumed last night. Hell, maybe I am still drunk. I don’t want to adult. I don’t want to people. I don’t want to do anything.

However, there are things to do. People to avoid. And life intervenes.

I just found out the world doesn’t revolve around me. I hate it here.