The bite that binds the gift that gives

I am an asshole. I agree with that. I've been called some pretty terrible things, most of them true. I've been labeled, and I understand that. I am a bitch. And you can tell because most of my sentences in what I write start with "I". Most of what I say begins with me. The majority of what I talk about is something I barely understand, myself.

It doesn't phase me anymore.

I have a terrible time controlling myself. Sometimes, I think it's the reason people are obsessed with vampires, werewolves, zombies. Compulsions they can't control. Something that we know will ultimately destroy us. We are obsessed with our own destruction. A love so deep that will surely end in pain. This fiction, it's just us on a bigger scale. It's us magnified. People are consumed with things and ideas and imaginings that destroy us. "My body's strained, my heart's aflame. But God, I like it".
As if letting ourselves go and give in will ultimately make us infinite. But it's not worth the sacrifice.

I suppose.

You know this is one big metaphor. I am an addict. I think once I start respecting myself this will change.
Have you ever met a self respecting addict?
I think that's the difference.
I'm not a sex addict, not a drug addict, not an alcoholic.

And you'll never guess what I'm addicted to.


This doesn't make sense I know. I am just tired. I might wake up and delete this tomorrow.