I think I'm actually just starting to accept this whole loneliness thing and beginning to digest and move on.

It's tough to say, I'm still not being social enough or meeting nearly enough people, but at least I'm not so mopey or depressed before I fall asleep. The stuff I got for my thyroid actually helped out a little, so I've been perkier lately. However, work continues to drag be down; whether it be grumpy-faggoty old men bitching at me for not having their stuff (Which it's Dan's fucking fault, he refuses to order because next door won't approve his older orders. Fucker.) or my retarded counterparts. I've almost gotten into fistfights with men nearly twice my age on a couple of occasions, and if Sean continues to have attitude with me or Dan has another little girl temper tantrum and tells me to fuck off one more time? Fuuuuckk.

I've been ridiculously scrappy lately. Anytime someone disrespects me in the slightest ( Asides customers, apparently screaming is a common way to communicate in this business) I'm up in their face right away, either countering them or insulting them back. No insult is left alone, no off hand slight about my personality or attitude ignored. I've been pushed around my whole life, mostly because of my build or slightly submissive nature, but now that I've got the figure and am good and fucking tired of being pushed, that's all over. I'm simply not allowing it, not backing down, and if someone pisses me off, they'll hear about it. Quick.

And on that note, that cunt Sean is going to get fired. Whether it be me squealing on him for being late almost every time me and him have to open (5-10 minutes, whatever; excusable. An hour every weekend and once a weekday? Fuck that!) or him claiming to know the job better? Go die buddy. Seriously, don't fuck with me. I'll get you fired or beat you down.

Yawn. Back to work I guess. What a stupid day.

How do you present yourself in a normal, healthy way these days?

Alot of the habits I keep are healthy, yet alot more are not. I've had a rough and confusing past, mingled in with mistakes and scars that don't easily fade. I'm still pretty fucked up and not 100%, and it's hard to say when that will happen.

I think that's my biggest chink in my armor, I don't know when I'll just be able to laugh off all of the major insecurities and fears I have left over from Evelyn and the solid wall of a nightmare that followed. What I really need is a confidence booster, something to get my ego and swagger back in full, not just some stupid facade.

Fuck, I really need to get out and have something I could even jokingly call a social life. Asides the group (Which still won't hang out unless we're drinking. >:/) and the usual boytoys, I'm alone all the time. It's been so long since I've even flirted properly with a girl, and I was so young and naive back then. How do adults flirt? Do I act mature or lighthearted and funny?

I really need to take some time to figure my own dumb self out.

This bitter loneliness.

At the party last night I sat out in the deep end of the pool, my buzz dying in my throat as I watched four couples hooking up in front of me. I don't know what it was, I don't know why I cared, but it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to watch.

The nicest thing about the group was there was never any sexual tension. Guys and 'gals just having a good time, putting the week of misery and pointlessness to the torch and just destroying it with the bottle. There was no need to judge, no need to point fingers at anyone calling them stupid petty names, because we were all there for the same reason. We all knew it, we all accepted it, and moved on from the fact. As well, we would have a damn good time doing whatever the fuck we wanted. Laughing, drinking games, making fun, saying stupid things over and over simply because the words brought tears to our eyes.

But now it just seems like the integrity is gone. Everyone just decided to hook up, major make out sessions right in the pool. The long time couples I don't care about, but the few single girls just going to town on the guy in front of them just seemed so out of place. I always imagined that if it did happen, it would be with me. Sure, there was never any tension, but I'd be a liar if I didn't say there was attractions and a hint of chemistry there.

I don't even feel like a friend, just some goddamn clown to show up and make people laugh for awhile while I get drunk and they have a good time watching me do it. Sure, I'm the life of the party, people flock around, but at what cost to my character? I can't hang with them to save my life, they never even want to see me unless I've got a ridiculous outfit on and a bottle pushed to my lips. I've tried, but it's obvious they're blowing me off and I've almost given up hope.

So here I sit again. Alone and desperate to change it, but no closer or happier to achieving anything. It feels so goddamn pathetic, I feel like an empty shell of a person that I'm no longer sure exists.

The worst part of being the way I am is I can see it. I'm not about to deny much, or even looking for some big overwhelming sense of understanding/pity. I'm just looking to find my own way through the rough, but I'm so deep now it's like I'm in an endless maze.

Being desperate is just stupid as well. Instead of having something close to a pair of balls I just have this massive fleshy patch there, pulsing and red from being abused so much. Instead of being slick or trying to pull off something cool, you go for the desperation mode pickups or say something retarded that gives away your real position. What fucking girl wants that? Some loser who always seems to be one big trainwreck with massive insecurities? Mother Teresa would probably smack me in the mouth and call me a pussy; I can't imagine anyone just wanting to comfort me back to strength and wanting to stick with me through it all.

I don't know what I'm going to do, but I'm glad I'm out of the pool and hungover now. I feel better just admitting all these stupid things, it's refreshing to admit your weaknesses, even if it is online to the worldwide web.

I'm going to go have a really good day.

We are the clowns only here to entertain.

Tossing and Turning.

All last night my body wretched itself across the bed, convulsing and snorting myself into a half-consciousness. I awoke at five thirty, my eyes bulging and nonreactive to the short time I had to sleep in the night. I dreamt, as always, but much more vividly then normal. I saw a familiar face, a face who's name dwells in the back of my subconsciousness. I can't recall the name, but the face, the face kept me awake all morning. I've only seen her twice, but for whatever reason the second time I saw her I can't get the image out of my skull.

I know where she works, I know the job she does because I've done it, I know I'm attracted to her, but nothing else. I can't tell if this is just another stupid boyish crush or potentially something more yet, I haven't even really spoke to her; and to be frank, I'm not sure I have the balls to do it. I want to, I want to more than anything right now. I'm so goddamn sick of being alone, I want to meet someone so badly it hurts in the bottom of my chest. I just don't know how I'd do it?

Do I phone her workplace, asking about her and when she might work? I know people talk and she'd probably be informed some creep was asking about her, so when I showed and tried to present myself I'd come off more of a stalker or some sort of major loser than anything else. I've got a plan to get in the theatre, acting like a projectionist from another theatre there to repair a piece of equipment. I'd ask her to escort me, first getting the name of the projectionist and manager so I could name drop so the story would seem legitimate. Then, once I had a brief moment of solitude with her, confess my real intentions and ask her to dinner. Of course, this would expose me to the rest of the staff and presumably, her friends, so if this backfired she would have a whole crew to shut me down in front of, which would just be a disaster.

Do I slip her a "gift certificate" with a confessional on it, simply stating how I'd be interested in seeing more of her? Do I phone and ask until I get her and then ask her to meet me somewhere?
Do I spy on her and find out when she's off and then "accidentally" run into her?

Everything I think of just sounds so creepy.

And once again, I question my own confidence to do any of the things I've thought of.

All I know is I'll have trouble sleeping until I try something. I know I'll have more trouble if I get shot down, but I always have to wonder.

Where the fuck has my backbone gone?

And I'm afraid, to sleep because of what haunts me. Such as, living with the uncertainty that I'll never find the words to say which would completely explain;
Just how I'm breaking down.

Icarus.

Daedalus fashioned two pairs of wings out of wax and feathers for himself and his son. Before they took off from the island, Daedalus warned his son not to fly too close to the sun, nor too close to the sea. Overcome by the giddiness that flying lent him, Icarus soared through the sky curiously, but in the process he came too close to the sun, which melted the wax. Icarus kept flapping his wings but soon realized that he had no feathers left and that he was only flapping his bare arms. And so, Icarus fell into the sea in the area which bears his name, the Icarian Sea near Icaria, an island southwest of Samos.

A man, standing tall and proud, stretching his arms out to the heavens. He is lean, not a shred of fat on his body, his muscles thin but taunt with checked control. His legs are crossed, his genitals hidden beneath a thin fold of green linen. He is faceless, his face turned skyward and a mask of indifference hides any sort of facial features; all that can be seen is a firm and solid jaw, a perfectly sculpted head.

Strapped to both of his arms lie beautiful red and gold wings. The feathers of wax are intricate and thin, with hundreds of hours etched into each wing, each feather a masterpiece in its own. The man is in mid flight, his arms pushed to the ends of his own limits as the wind soars and whistles through them, the wings catching the breeze and propelling him towards freedom and the bright light of the sun.

On his chest, a tiny tattoo of his own. A little sun with sunglasses, smiling.

Naked and raw ambition, yet a reminder not to go too far. Always fly high, yet be careful and realistic with your dreams.

But where to get this vision on my body? I'm considering getting it drawn up somewhere.

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle!

After very little thought, I've decided to recycle my virginity.

I know, it sounds so fucking stupid it hurts a little, but I think whomever I end up doing it for will actually appreciate it. I think the next girl I sleep with will actually mean something again, which will be nice.

I can't believe I'm actually doing it though, what used to be a source of pride (As it is for most men,) has become a burden and a side of myself I'm more than a little ashamed of. High School was crazy, I can't count how many times I got so unbearably lucky and wound up in bed with girls as beautiful and gorgeous as I did; there was even a few occasions with more then one girl at once. However, after my run in with my Blond Angel and the stage fright and the confusion that followed, it's definitely time to slow down and wait for someone special again.

I can't believe how much insight Evelyn managed to show over the course of our relationship, she predicted this more accurately then I could have ever imagined. I remember her telling me I'd regret my dirty past at some point, whether it be through some sort of disease or just having to tell someone I care about who and what I've done, and I also remember laughing at her then. I've always been careful with my screening of girls (For the most part...) and as a male, it's natural to brag about sexual conquests. I never thought I might become ashamed of it all, I never imagined it coming back to haunt me as much as it is now. All posts under the title "Lusting for Alpha Male" have earned me a permanent and cosy spot in shallow mans hell.
(Haha, fat chicks and gay guys always wanting to talk...)

How I figure I'll do the so called 'recycling' is pretty simple.
-No porn
-No masturbation
-Obviously no fooling around until I find a certain someone who actually gives a damn about me that I care for.

Sure, it's nothing huge, but hopefully someone will appreciate it. I'm not going to claim I am one, I'm not going to hide from my conceded past, but I will do my best to try and reshape my future and live a life that's not so fucking stupid and shallow.

Now I just need to find that 'special' someone. Bummer.

Next time I'm going to try and describe the wicked tattoo idea I nearly went out and got on a whim.

Blond Assassin.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing when she called; we haven't spoken a word to each other in nearly over two years.

It was crazy, as soon as I heard her voice and realized she was coming, it was being a pre-pubescent teenager all over. Weak knees, shaky voice, sweating profusely, anxiety attacks; For the first time in probably four years I asked someone what I should wear to flatter myself. And when I saw her again it was like she had never left, her bounding step, her fluttering and spastic laugh, even her long wild blond hair. So much had changed, yet it seemed like nothing ever changed at all. It's like back when we first met: I'm an emotional trainwreck and she's so high on life it's infectious.

We spoke and it seemed so natural and right, I forgot what it was like to talk to such an honest and forward person. She spoke her mind, laughed at all my jokes and insults, and as always made sure to keep what was really going on in her head to a minimum. She just made me feel so good, I was sad to hear she was leaving right after this Angel lept back into my sights.

I offered to let her stay the night and I had one of the strangest nights I've ever had.

I started to set up my bed in the other room, obviously letting her sleep in my much cooler room with the bed, when she crept in and unceremoniously took off her bra and bent over, giving me the grandest view of her bulging cleavage. Without so much as a second thought or even a hint that I might be staring wide eyed down her shirt, she simply asked if I wanted to sleep with her.

What? We haven't spoken in years? I know you've only slept with two guys, I know you're looking for a good time, but what is this? I remember when we were fifteen and I told you about oral sex with a girl and you laughing your ass off at me, telling me how unbelievably gross that was. Scolding me softly for the raw amount of sex I managed to have as a youth, telling me of the dangers and showing some restraint, yet here you are, offering yourself to me like some sort of object?

I agreed after a moments hesitation, clearly unsure of what to say or do. In truth, of all the girls I've ever met in my life, she is (And shall remain,) the only girl I've cared considerably enough to utter the L word to that I HAVEN'T fantasized about. I've just never thought about her like that, I respect her too much and always thought of her as this wonderful saviour, a pure and hilariously gifted girl.

I got in and kept to my side, bewildered and a little astounded something like this was happening. I'd never in my wildest and bizarre dreams ever imagined something like this unfolding, this was the closest we'd been in nearly five years and then the most we had managed was a holding hands, a stolen kiss under the covers. Yet here I was, lying beside this barely clothed Goddess, unsure and more than a little afraid of what could be ahead.

She grabbed my hands with a laugh and threw one around her waist, pulling the other hand around her neck to rest a little above her breasts. I felt myself shake as she rubbed her ass up against my crotch, my nervousness beginning to rise.

We talked for a bit in this embrace, her words thick with seduction and the promise of something so much more, mine weak and mumbled. This sweet and innocent girl I had fallen for so many years ago was gone, replaced by this newly awakened women, her powers of seduction taken to impossible heights.

When we kissed I lost my breath. She started fast, but slowed when our tongues met; the pace was defined by her want of me. We sped up, our hands roaming free and touching whatever they pleased. I felt her body all over, my fingers wrapping around and feeling every inch of her incredible body. I was in a dream, my mind unattached and watching the event unfold beneath me.

She revealed more to me in two minutes then she had over the course of our entire previous friendship.

She wasn't looking for a boyfriend, she simply wanted a strong pair of arms to hold and feel her all over. She worried about me caring too much (Justly...) and how things might become weird after we did have sex, she told me she'd want to do it again but not any sort of long distance relationship. She showed me her lack of a gag reflex, told me of chronic masturbation, listed off all the filthy things she Loved to have done to her.

It was at this point I became so nervous I got stage fright, I actually could not perform.

I couldn't believe it. The sweet and innocent girl I knew was gone, replaced by this lusting and savage Amazon, begging me to fuck her with the extra finger and finish by cumming all over her tits and mouth.

I couldn't get hard. I tried everything, thinking of someone else, finger banging and oral sex until she came violently and repeatedly, my tongue inside her. Masturbation, relaxation, forcing it...

She talked to me like I was some sort of child. I've got a dozen women under my belt, she's had sex with two and is telling me what to do. What the fuck.

Afterwords, we just lay awake all night. We cuddled and kissed, I ate her out again and again watching her body rise and fall as she came and came again, we talked and spoke to each other like a married couple.

"I'm all yours right now, you know that?"

Except you're not. I know you will probably never be mine, you're too much of a free spirit to be held down by any man. I know this may be my only chance at this sort of thing again, we may never kiss or hold each other or anyone else like I am holding you right now. But I wasn't sad, I just lay there and breathed her in as much as I could. I embraced, I kissed, I tried and tried to actually get the show going, but I couldn't.

I had work in the morning and got maybe two hours of sleep, the rest of the night spent wrapped in my Love-drunk haze. When she left, she left like nothing had happened. This was simply standard treatment for an old friend. We hugged, kissed one last time, and she left with a laugh and a smile on her lips.

After it's all said and done, I honestly still can't believe what has happened. I don't know if I should speak, she's not looking for a clingon or even another fuck buddy, she could have any man she wants. I don't know when or if I'll ever see her again, but I'm still so glad I did get the chance to see her, even with what happened. I'd do it all again, even the workday that never seemed to end and being awake for the better part of 36 hours.

I miss her, but I know it's wrong to. I know such things are stupid to waste my time on, I know she's not interested in the nice guy at this point. She wants to go and experiment, party it up a little, meet some people. I wanted to tell her it won't go anywhere, I've been down and been stuck on that street for so long now it's just an embarrassment. The people you'll meet will never care or respect you as much as I will, the parties you'll see will fade and die after time, and I know that if you keep at it, you'll find someone. You deserve and will find the best.

I don't know where this leaves me. Alone, used, yet happy about it all. I know I was just a pair of arms and a strong brush up to her confidence and ego, my whispered words of lust and wonder stroking her nerves and mind.

My blond Angel, the Worlds Blond Assassin; wounding and awing young boys all over the world.

I wonder where I sit on her pile of skulls.