Poor twisted child, so ugly, so ugly

I know I'm unloveable,
you don't have to tell me,
I don't have much in my life, but take it it's yours


It has always been this miserable way. Since I first became of the opinion that love is all there is to live for in this pitiful world, it has evaded me on every corner. It never fails to rebuff me, yet still it's always there, goading me, dancing in front of me with its harsh truth. Now the day of denouement has come. I can't say I did not foresee it. All I can ask is ''Why me?'' Why must I always be the one lying disgraced in the dust, having made a fool of myself and feeling like a complete idiot as the previous object of my affection recedes into the distance with his true love, lover, object of desire? I always give so much and nothing is ever reciprocated. It must be something to do with me as a person.

Now is an opportune time to enter the fantasy world. I entered nothing, and nothing entered me, so no surprises there. Even in the outside world, away from the old grey school and the arrogant bastards with their expensive haircuts, clothes and lifestyles, even in a college setting, with 'normal' people, I fail at love, fail to capture anyone's attention for more than a few weeks, if at all. How laughable. I feel like one of Nature's cruel jokes.

So sleep on,
and dream of love
-because it's the closest thing you will get to love-

I give up now. Art and music and movies and books will keep me occupied just fine. Dreams are the only places where I don't have to be alone all my life, they're beautiful and I love them. I still don't belong to anybody- I am mine
oh, November spawned a monster.