Dear Ms. Leading,

I regret to inform you I've fallen out of lust.
It must be so hard to understand.
Did you really think me a fool enough to play along?
And make believing everything you said was true
Push your pouting lips on other unsuspecting lovers

The Dear Hunter


Today, my mother said to me, "You weren't always like this," referring to how unsatisfied I am with just about everything I do, and cynical to the point of being a killjoy at times.

It got me to think about how I got here.
Because she's right.
I wasn't always like "this."

My response was, "It's the people that have screwed me over... actually, it's because I lost faith in humanity."

She didn't like that.

Sometimes, I miss my optimistic view on life I had with a Capri-Sun and PB&J lunch or the occasional Lunchables package.

But then I'm brought back to the present where I work at a shitty retail job for just over minimum wage, on an island that would charge you to breathe if they could. I have several thousand dollars in loans to pay back in about a year, no idea what I'm going to "be" when I "grow up" and living in a nation where the economy is spiraling down the toilet of western civilization.

I wonder if this is growing up.
Or if it's growing up to be a cynical old hag.


Hermits have the right idea about life.
They are wiser than Mr. Owl from the Tootsie Roll Pop commercial.

Living a life free of societal binds and obligation.


People in their general nature have made me consider running away into the woods and never returning to "civilized life."
I'm not saying that I'm better than everyone else and this is how I can free myself from the scum of the earth because everyone is the same when it comes to lowlife status.*
I'm saying that people have driven me to want nothing but to be alone for the rest of my life.
To live a life at my leisure without any outside pressure, any norms to be compared to and without any expectations to live up to.

I used to think that these people that isolate themselves are crazy.
But now, as I lie awake some nights, thinking of literal nothingness, I think they're brilliant.
With their experiences in cities, commuting to a dead end job with an abusive boss. The suburbs, with a family and a second marriage, mortgage, and ungrateful children, they've just thrown out all responsibility and any sort of ties to anyone but themselves.

Alone is so appealing.
I want it.

*We're all lowlifes. Adulterers, liars, rapists, abusers, thieves, racists. I've accepted it. You should too.


Picture people as Gobstoppers; a jawbreaker-type sucking candy with several layers.

The Gobstopper that represents me is a disgusting mess.
Bitter layer after bitter layer.
I feel like every person in my life that has disappointed me has added to these layers.

If I had to make a detailed description of the taste of this metaphor, I'd have to say that the center and last layer is sweeter than the rest, probably tasting like grapefruit. The middle layers are unsweetened tea. And the first layer...

It tastes like envelope glue.


Jealousy always finds its way back into the forefront of my daily activities.
It pushes my normal, chipper demeanor down a few flights of stairs and presses down on my torso- hard. So hard it becomes difficult to breathe.

When I experience jealousy, it's not a simple feeling that's here and gone in a matter of "let me count my blessings." I experience anger, depression and anxiety because of it.
Dice those all up into a fine minced emotion mix and you have the main event.
The Shit Show of My Life.
Where anxiety attacks are the star and two-timing, indecisive, manipulative boy-men continuously drive me to the point of wanting to stab bitches and take a cheese grater to their clitorises.

There. That feels better.
Now for the depression that will soon turn into anxiety which will somehow constrict my breathing.

I believe this is why Jealousy is called "The Green-eyed Monster" and not "Fluffy Baby Bunnies."
My absence has been due to lack of thought, thinking, and any kind of brain activity.
My presence now is blamed solely on feelings of obligation and 1AM solace.

I've been in a coma it seems.
I hate when people spell coma, "comma."
Didn't anyone teach them the difference between a vegetative state and a punctuation?

Anyway, I've been in a coma; a social coma that only comes every few months in my life when depression catches up with my consciousness after crawling from the depths and crevices of my mind.
Who are we to question our happiness or define what happiness really is? Whose standards are we using for comparison? Why are we always searching and scraping and barely getting by just for the unattainable happy high? Happy lasts just as long as a marijuana high lasts, so why don't we just waste our efforts on seeking the nice pieces of work that deal?

It seems as if this blog is full of questions I can never have answered and it as frustrating as blue balls on prom night.


As I watched two of my mid 30 year old co-workers scamper about during inventory today, I started to think of their similarities.

They're both single.
They both live alone.
They are both working in retail, in a store that sells shit from stores that doesn't want it anymore.
And they both have little dogs they gush over and love more than life itself.

I chuckled to myself a bit because they both despise one another to a point where they speak about the other right behind their back.

And then it hit me.

Am I going to be the crazy 35 year old retail co-worker with a dog as my closest companion and nothing but co-worker gossip and company policy to keep me going everyday?

I refuse to ever sink that low.
Perhaps I think too highly of myself, but, shit.
I am NOT letting that happen.


You know, my friends mean well, but do they know what they are doing to me when they tell me that I "deserve better" when referring to a romantic interest?

They make me strive to be intimate with a better quality person.

Which may not seem all that horrible because they are encouraging me to find the best out there, but in all actuality, it has fucked with my expectations.

Expectations that are not of the "Great" Dickens department, but instead are the fucked ideals this society has defined to be our dating norms.

Expectations that will never be met.

They say find better.
I find better.
He disappoints.
They say find better.
I find better.
He disappoints.
They say find better.

Does anyone else see a vicious, cock eating cycle here? Because I sure as hell do.

Maybe there is no better. And if there is, where are they? Am I not finding them because the universe doesn't agree with my friends when they say I deserve it?

I think I give up on trying to find better. Every time I do, there apparently is "better" than him out there. If anyone knows where all of these "better" people are, could you please point me in the right direction?

Because I'd love to prove you wrong.