he just told me he didn't mean it.

i take it. i take it standing. i feel sort of martyred. i'm such a fucking prick. i'm so self-absorbed. i hate myself. i hate myself for thinking i'm god. i'm such a fucking brat. a bastard child. a punk. a fucking dick that lies through his teeth about himself constantly and doesn't look forward or back. and i hate myself worse than anything. worse than he hates me. or doesn't hate me. or whichever the fuck it is.

i make this fucking four-lanes-across-freeway-hopping-u-turn so often i don't know if i can keep it up. and every time i tell him i won't do it again. (and i tell myself, well.... maybe once more.) and i'm back in the passenger seat flipping the bitch once more taking an accelerated turn into the train wreck of my life.

and i still can't fucking use simile OR metaphor to anyone's advantage when i write.

i need to fucking get it over with and bash my own skull in.....