Seriously, why am I still here? I was supposed to be gone weeks ago.

This is going to be bad. Maybe as bad as the last time, or maybe even worse. Probably worse, I bet.

What planet am I supposed to be from? What species am I supposed to be where I can just blow it all off and be okay with it? Handshakes and high-fives all around.

Bad news: I'm human.

Being okay would invalidate everything that I've said and done for years. But still, I would be okay if I could. Fuck, I might even fake it, if I could do that halfway convincingly.

But, I'm a terrible actor, it seems.

Why am I still here?

And the thing is, I can almost be okay with it. My own desires and priorities have, after all, changed, blurred, whatever. I could be okay, and I only asked for a little help. Like to not rub it in my face, and to not bend me over and fuck me up the ass with it.

Not too much of a request, I don't think. A little goddamn common decency and empathy.

em-pa-thy
noun
1. Identification with and understanding of, or at least acceptance of, another's situation, emotions, or motives.

Why am I still here?

I want to leave.

I need to leave, to get away from this fucking failed experiment before it sucks me in all over again. I don't want to go through it all again.

Where's the fucking payoff if I stay?

What's the reason for all of this? The rainbow is beautiful, but the pot of gold is forever out of my reach. Set aside for random others. Like they fucking deserve it. Like I haven't proven myself.

I try to be a good guy, and I think that I am a good guy.

But I'm not that fucking good.

Nobody is that fucking good.

The other night, MusicalYuppieDude told me that I should be knighted. I countered that perhaps I should be straight-jacketed.

Telling the truth has turned out to be the worst thing I could have done. How messed up is that?