I need.

So many people complain of being lonely, of which I am included in this profound observation. There are so many people, tweeps, face book friends, so many people in this world around me, but really deep down WE ARE LONELY.

I am Lonely.

I want a friend. That is what I am lacking in this world, I have friends, but I want a soul friend, someone to communicate with at all times, to depend on when needed, to lay with and do absolutely nothing, to understand and be understood. It'd be lovely if sex would play a role in these ministrations, making that soul friend probably someone of the opposite sex, someone to call a prototype, to make me feel at home when I am so far away from my real home.

I get easily depressed here, lack of love, lack of truth, the willing blind all hurt me, bring my soul down, bring my intellect to it's knee's. I feel lost at times in this country, and it scares me, I am unused to this fear, but now my mere acknowledgment of it gives me power, if I can pin point the wound I can stop the bleeding.

I don't ask for much. I just want someone to exist with. There are so many words, people talk to me all the time, telling me they love me, that I'm their "inner caucus". But how many actually mean it? How many actually sacrifice as much as I would for a stranger without question?

I want truth. So many talk, but never actually mean what they say, always telling me how real they are, how far they'd go for me, but never actually mean it. And the fact that I can smell the lies, I can see the falsehoods, all unnecessary, because if it any of it were real, you wouldn't have to tell me. I would see it. I would feel it. Right now, words are useless to me. Everyone in my world talks. No one acts. A painful truth, so much that my optimism suffers greatly because of. I am never pleasantly surprised most of the time, everyone acts just as expected. I have the lowest standards in regards to the nature of human beings, and most live up to them.
There's this girl I might've fucked with ages ago, and we recently got in contact with one another via Facebook, her interest in me remains it would seem, but I find her methods of garnering my attention stupid at best. I read them with a sigh, the sweetness sickens, have I alluded to any interest in this being romantically once more? What we had, is just that, a HAD. Past tense of have. I don't even remember my reasoning behind the encounter, but I came to regret it at times, it was sweet, she really liked me, I suppose she still does, I really liked her, but I have no interest in anything of the sort.

I want to us to speak like human beings first. I know I always say you should just express your emotions, but when it comes to me, please measure your distance before you walk it. I don't want to be rude, so I generally just ignore advances in hopes that she'll desist and act like a normal human being once more. Perhaps it's the predictable nature of the entire affair that turns me off so much, because I knew she would do this, I knew she would approach it like that, because I saw it coming, I immediately despised it, and in that sense, is she really to blame? Is it her fault that I'm a foreshadowing son of a bitch?

No, it's not her fault, but the blame game does not change how I feel at the end of the day. My interest remains nonexistent. I hold such contempt for predictability. I can't even help myself. I hate formula's, I hate scripts, I hate any sense of a feeling that this has been done before, the idea that we live our lives according to someone else's picture of how and what things should be causes my bile to rise. And the fact that so many are happy in this existence is despairing.

So I shall remain on this island, all by my lonesome, until one day, some rescue ship would come floating down, with only one person inside. Who won’t talk.

And I’ll just know that I have to kick off my shoes, scream and step into that boat. Till then.

It is what it is.

Actually, I eat my words. You have a right to be selfish.

Peace.