More Brooding

"What's wrong?" "There's something off about you lately"

What am I supposed to say to that? Do I reply in my native tongue, (sarcasm) "How observant of you!"

What is wrong with me? Why am I here when I'm not sure I want to be? More and more I think that this love I feel is for a person that never really existed. A love based on lies, on deception. Aside from that there is this desire to find myself. To be who I want to be. To do me, without worrying about him.

That's an easy enough thing to do right. I mean in order for me to do me, I don't even have to leave. I can do me and still be here. All the inevitable fights over my new priorities are in the future, not to be chewed over now in the hypothetical. Let the chips fall where they may, let me seek out that which makes me happy.

Old musty smelling books, big comfy chairs, cute girls with dark hair, dark eyeliner and the soul to match. Girls that I needn't worry about the hypothetical future and love triangles. Girls to flirt with, make out with, and touch just for fun.

Writing stories, escapades, sordid love affairs of broken people.