Today is July 25th

Venus is in retrograde
and my feelings follow suit
like they’re forced against their will
by a card laid on the table
My present is plagued by a past
that quickly scales my city walls
and finds a heart that’s scarred and stained
from years it spent upon my sleeve
Yet, when the fog comes to collect me
I’m sure I’ll sit with all the sinners
and the ghosts that haunt my dreams
will finally have their day in court
I’m sure they’ll bravely show the judge
every one of their chipped corners
and every exhibit into evidence
will simply bear my fucking name
I only hope that when it’s over
and the jury finds me guilty
my sense of shame
is quickly quelled
by the booze that’s
on my breath

“Who is Boston Paul? Yes, I do know his name and address. I know his screen name and his responses to the things I say, but who is he? I only know him in the context I present him with. I’m curious if I could watch him interact with others without him knowing I was around he’d be different. No one is really that..So…I cannot think of an adjective. Just so… Boston Paul. I hope he’s in the dictionary.” -a girl

I am in the dictionary, but “fucking asshole” is two words. I don’t know. Lately, I have been thinking about where I am and how I got here. I feel like if I turned around, I would see the ruins left behind by a tornado. I’m so fucking selfish that it makes me sick to my stomach. I used to think I was a good friend, and just a shitty boyfriend, but I realize now that I am bad at all of it. I simply let everyone down in the end. In romantic relationships, when I realize they’ve run their course, I hang around and wait to get out of it without being the asshole. Instead of manning up and saying, “This isn’t working for me” I pussy out because I guess I have a pathological need to not be hated. When it comes to friendships, I just let them wither away until they are gone. I make excuses and blame everyone else when in reality it’s my own damn fault. I wrote something a while ago blaming a girl for the way our friendship deteriorated, but it was me. There was a guy she really disliked and warned me about and told me not to talk to him. Did I listen? No. Why? It’s simple. I’m selfish. I knew certain things about this girl didn’t add up, and I wanted to be vindicated. I should have just accepted her personality quirks and let it be. Instead, I shared notes with the guy and was so happy that I had found out the truth. It wasn’t fair to her, and it wasn’t really fair to him either. I didn’t really think he was the monster he was made out to be. He was just an honest person and expected honesty in return. I suppose that’s what made him seem crazy. When you live a lie as long as I have, honesty seems like a completely insane notion.

Who am I to judge anyone, least of all her? She had wanted to come out to Boston or have me go out to Michigan to meet in person. I made up excuses and avoided the topic because the reality is, I had a girlfriend for the entire time we were talking, and I couldn’t exactly disappear for a week or have some random girl from Michigan sleeping at my house without my girl finding out. The sad part is there was a part of me that wanted to leave my girl and see where this new thing would go. Deep down, I think I knew it would have been a disaster. I would either have fucked her over, or she would have used me as her next launching pad. In the end, that’s why I never met her. I don’t trust people, and I never give people a chance. I suppose that’s why I get out of bed at 4:58am and look through old messages on myspace and write shit like this. Something about me will never let me be happy.