I know I cannot make you feel. I know that while you find me attractive you will get your fill and have pointless unemotional sex with some semi attractive girl with no self realization. I know... maybe I don't, does it matter if I think of it? If I haven't the ability to trust in my blood? It's been striped of me. Raped out of my veins. No longer in operation; out of order. Fear fills me at times; trust seems like such a one way street. My approach now has changed; no longer will I stay, or fight like some college girl without a clue. I just leave and evaporate from existence one day never to be seen again. My mind keeps stroking endless revisions like some choose your own ending elementary school book...over and over. One analytical compromise after another. Will it end? Will it ever end? It's exhausting running these mental laps.
Stop.
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