Taking This One To the Grave

That’s kind of why I avoid the radio … they just play the same shit over and over, it gives me a headache … … yeah, seems like your style. Sort of. Better than Henry Hall, that guy’s a fucking psycho.

 … morbid fascination is a little much, but I can see that. .. groveling is the last thing you’d do, you have too much of a bloodlust streak to even consider that option … ugh …  Oh, thanks. Doesn’t that make me sound like some fucking masochist? I never thought I’d ever hear it out loud, and from you of all people.

Thanks for the poetic explanation .. didn’t think it’d get that long, though.  

Which is fair enough, it really does get tiring.  I can listen to some songs on repeat, but there's a limit for everyone, and mine is reached numerous times, sometimes.  It's like everyone forgets that older music does exist, and ought to be appreciated, too.  It's a hard concept for us to grasp, sometimes.  Anything older than a month is not worth the time, of course, to this new generation.  I feel old ...

... Henry Hall is perfectly fine, for the record, you're the mentally unstable one.

Hmh. I wouldn't say it's an exaggeration at all, and you wanted my opinion, didn't you?  That's mine.  Anyway, I had another huge block of text here, but I've deleted it for your sake.  Instead --

.. popular? Shit, I don’t know anything about trending music, I just listen to what I have already. I pick up songs, but .. 

I’ll leave that up to you .. you’re technical about this shit so you can decide. 

Well, when you listen to the radio with nothing better to do, you end up hearing the popular songs over, and over, and over, and over.  You tend to either choke on it or learn to like it.  Fortunately!  This was one I could get interested in fairly quickly. 

Ah ...  hm.  Then, in that case ...  I would have to say you would be the one narrating the song.  I may come along fairly often, and I will not deny for a moment the ... morbid fascination that I have with you, Haine.  Hahah.  But oh, to say that I grovel before you at all would be incorrect.  If anything ...      I prostrate myself only before someone who has never deserved something less.  You, however, are one who hosts remorse for your actions.  You are offset by the wrongdoings you have done, and you seek some sort of salvation, some approval ...  and you will find it in any way that you can.  Sometimes, I believe you like to be on the wrong side of the muzzle, because the bullets tear you apart, piece by piece ...  and each chunk of your flesh being removed is a purging process, if you will.

You fall on your knees, and you are baptized with your own blood, cleansed with gun powder and metal.  The smell of a fistful of pennies is your salvation.  Your savior is one that makes you feel so dirty.

Where the hell did you even find that song .. ? That’s way too close to us.

Hahaha!  Luck, my dear brother.  It happens to be a popular song around right now, and how amusing it fits is so well!

... A new face, I see.  That's always fun.  Hmmm.  And just in time; my dashboard happens to be a little .. lacking today.

Shit, that’s accurate.

… if you were a cat. Wouldn’t be much different from how you act. sometimes I can’t tell the difference with you. … don’t think on that too much, I’m not trying to do anything to you aside from making you lose the trail you’re sniffing out.

 Can’t say I really agree with you, maybe it’s reflexive since you’re always charging in when you’re not wanted. … … so what … sometimes I can stand you, sometimes I can’t. Right now, you’re being really fucking sentimental .. or .. something, I dunno. Either way, it’s far from the norm and it’s weird. I don’t know what I want from you. I don’t know what I’m expecting of myself if that tells you anything.      I’m not up for you being fucking annoying, what about it. … I said I wasn’t doing anything. You’re just one of those people. I. Don’t. Fucking. Know. .. what I want with you. I just .. I really don’t, alright? You confuse me just as much as I somehow confuse you. You attack me. You want to see Cerberos. You want me to like you. You do things to make me hate you. The fuck do you want with me? You’re running circles around me just like I’m doing to you.

            —- .. no one asked for your opinion.

I could say the same of you, though your recent affliction seems to be something more akin to a cobra.  But, I wonder if that's appropriate, because they give warning before they strike.  -- Though, that can be said of both of us, couldn't it?  It's a wonder that we can call ourselves anything near canid ...  Maybe we should revoke our titles, accept our fates as some disgusting street trash, and die like diseased animals in a rain gutter to repent.  Or maybe I'm just overthinking things?          Can't tell.  ... For the record, I'm not sniffing out anything.  I'm not looking for you.  I'm likely nowhere near you in the slightest.  What I'm doing right now is completely personal.  For my sake.                                                -- this isn't for her.  this isn't for you.  this is for me.      Please don't flatter yourself thinking that my life revolves around you.  You are not a star, Haine; you have a large significance in my life, but I can survive without orbiting your existence, whether you choose to believe it or not.

Let us revisit something again.  Leaf through what I've told you about myself.  If you can't understand that, I'll write it all over again, just for you, Brother Haine.  I'm no artist with a paintbrush, but I'll illustrate you a wonderful picture.  I'll turn everything inside out, and upside down and every which way until you understand every letter.  Please, just let me know.      What I want from you, mutton head, is exactly what I stated some time ago.  I want ... that peace that you brought me before.  That sense ... of safety in an ambiance being torn apart by a blood-stained hurricane.  I want to see what I saw in you that day.  I want to feel it.  I want release from this leash that tethers me to the world that you gnawed your way out of.  I want everything you have to offer.  That night.  That night together ...  that's what I wanted, what I needed.                But just like before, just like the last time ---- that was gone before I had the chance to revel in it.  You left before I woke up, and of course, you are entirely entitled to do as you will, but it has once again left me feeling as if there's no way I'll ever scratch the itch; I'll never be good enough to get that special treat.  I've never been praised by the one person I've all but dedicated the entirety of my life to, and I've never been the one that the one person I've needed for as far back as I can consciously recall wanted.

     How do you win a battle ...  when you're not allowed on the battlefield?    How do you prove your worth in a war when you're denied any weapons?

Speaking terms, sure. But you always talked too much, maybe I got tired of your voice or something … you’ve seen me around, so it’s really your fault you didn’t jump down from your rooftop to say hello.

… I don’t know how you felt, and I don’t want to. Either way, I don’t have issues like that. Just consider the fact that it isn’t anything you’re thinking that’s so glaringly obvious. Maybe I’m just in a bad mood and ready to break your neck, or maybe I just need sleep. Maybe I just don’t wanna see your fucking face today. Or maybe it’s something else entirely. … don’t exactly need you around to live, Giovanni. Just throwing that out there.

… so I guess you throwing shit out there is just another way of saying ’ I love you ‘, huh?

Do you hear my voice when you see my text, Haine?  Does it haunt your cerebral, and soak into the very marrow of your bones like your existence does to me?  -- There it is again.  That feeling ...  ' if I was a cat, I'd be purring for you. '  Nn.  You're killing me.  Slowly and painfully.

... It's like you consciously and purposely send the mixed signals, you know that?  You tell me you want nothing to do with me.  You bury me in a mountain of innuendo.  You tell me to get lost.  You come to my apartment.  You call me trash.  You sleep with me.  You leave first thing in the morning, pretending it never happened.  You express concern for me.  You tell me you want nothing to do with me; again.      I'm not up for the continuous cycle.  I've had enough of it without you adding to the problem.  Make up your mind, tell me straight out what it is you're doing, what you want, because I can't figure it out myself.  And I can't keep running these dizzy little circles trying to figure out what to do to cement in an opinion.

and what brother would that be? i’m pretty content a hundred miles away from you.

Oh?  Are you upset about my previous absence, then?  Last I can recall, we were at least on speaking terms before I bored of this website.  Is it abandonment issues, dearest Haine?      Perhaps now you know how I felt.  Or maybe I still have much more to consider when it comes to you.  It's funny, to consider ...  I can be miles away, having not bothered to touch this God forsaken heap of junk, but if you decide to put it to use, I'll know it immediately.  But ask me what you're thinking about, and you may as well ask me who created the heads on Easter Island and why they're there.

… Such creatures of habit, aren’t we.  But really, I wonder what it is that drives us to it?  There are many questions, few answers, and no solutions.      —— My throat hurts.  Finding out after growling at my screen was just as unpleasant as throwing up this morning.