Memories need a home;

I lock mine in the cellar.

These quotes are representative of my current (persistent) state of existence:

"Let me get my hands on your mammary glands."
-Steven Patrick Morrissey

"I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour; but heaven knows I'm miserable now."
-Steven Patrick Morrissey

"Hey you, you're losing your vitamin c."
-Can

"Not all mistakes are regrets."
-Joey Comeau

"Most mistakes are."
-Me

I've been getting in trouble lately. Getting caught looking at the breasts of a new friend, who's a new friend's girlfriend; getting slippery on too-strong whiskey-gingers at some fucking too-bright bar two blocks from her house that's always full of drunk assholes and girls and guys with cooler tattoos than anybody, and walking her home and slipping into places I really don't want to be; I am shamed.

This is the life I am living, or will live with. These are the mistakes I sleep with when I sleep alone, the mistakes I spoon with and cook breakfast for the morning after.

...

There's nothing like seeing the person with whom you've made the mistake to remind you the mistake you've made. Awkward hellos are a great reminder that there is no love here, there will be no snuggling afterward, no spooning as there is with these mistakes I hold so dear like trophies or gravestones. She won't have the thread to mend this broken heart. No one will until I allow them to.

Bye,
Someone who loves you,
and someone who even loves me too,
sometimes.

A knuckle against a brow.

Sometimes when I get so restless thinking of the things I have done, and the people I've done them to, I wretch with remorse my bed and grind my hands and knees against my face. I do this to ward myself against the ghosts of my past.

At night, some nights, like tonight, I lie in bed and drink whiskey and think of all those I've hurt by not just telling them how I feel. I hurt people by doing things with them and then not telling them how I feel. By being friendly but not a friend.

Sometimes I think I know what I want in life, and then I become afraid. I'm so damn afraid anymore of anything, of losing my job because it's too good for me, of losing my friends because I'm not charming enough or smart enough or sexy enough, of becoming a nobody, or rather, more of a nobody.

I'm too afraid to allow myself to be with anybody. I realized that recently. Relationships are stinky-poo, and I don't want to be in one. I don't want anybody, because whoever it is, they're not good enough for me, and I'm certainly not good enough for them, could never be worthy.

I don't know why I started writing tonight. I think that I was lonely, that I have secret sorrows I can't tell anyone, and that maybe this would make me feel better. It hasn't. It never does. Some mistakes I will never forgive myself for.

Drink more.

Promise me, promise me, please, that I can stay awake long enough write out what I really need to write, or just long enough to know what I want to write. I may just delete all of this later, it won't matter, none of this matters. All that matters is that I know.

I think I'll need at least another million words to try to express this pain. The funny thing is, and seriously, this is hilarious, I haven't even really done anything extraordinarily regrettable, I haven't done something so bad to feel this bad about, but I do. The implications, oh the implications of what I've done! How ruinous a single thirst, a simple impulse can be. I just don't know.

I am shamed.