I’m not perfect. There is that unbalanced part of me, that just wants to see my perspective as objective, but I think it does a lot more damage than good. Don’t get me wrong, the world is beautiful, filled with Twilight books, time signatures, and a lot of other magical stuff that is beautiful, but has just become pain. Like rotten milk. The things I love hurt and betrayed me, and it was really just myself inflicting the wound. But that beautiful stuff isn’t going away, and I’m not going away, but there is a point where you have to ask yourself if you are playing the game, or is the game playing you? That obscured part of me wants to think that I’ve lost something – something beautiful, that made me so special and unique, but who wants to die in a world of their own?
I’m sorry to a lot of people, it was some man shit. But as I’ve said, I just want to write. I don’t want every word to be debilitating and live in some, skewed perspective that just because I overdeveloped an idea, by myself, for too damn long, it is any more significant than some 90’s television or something. It really doesn’t matter what I think if I don’t put it down in words. But most importantly, I’m sorry in advance. I don’t mean to write things that are hurtful, but there are some things I need to say. I have no one. There is no one. Besides a blank page. And I’m so sorry if you don’t get that, but that is what I need.
I lost, more than I’ll ever know over some things I’ve written, and for that, I apologize, to myself, and her. Sincerely, as sad as it is, and shitty as it is, I really just don’t want to die quietly at 26. I don’t want to blame you for killing me.
Ben Bonkoske 