sometimes i get a feeling that there's some bloodthirsty holiday monster that's out to eat my heart.

leading up to the heart-out-of-chest horror movie scene, it plays my puppeteer forcing me to hang out with couples constantly and dredge through my gauntlet of failed relationships studying why it was me and not them that caused the whole thing to go horribly wrong, crash and then burst into flames that you could see from space.

and the more i delve into my past, the tighter its gnarled fingers wrap around my chest...

sometimes i miss that moment when the beach was black and the horseshoe crabs scared me shitless.

it never gets any easier. being alone has it's ups and downs and i can feel this moment of weakness like a cold wind cutting through to the bone.

but do i miss them or the idea of what they stood for, for me?

i'd rather have a life much unlike mine, but similar enough to know it wasn't a complete lie. gotta start pumping the heartbrakes on this one.