Lazy from C-Z

I have no social cues. Those that are emboldened by the belief that I will falter under their pensive need for approval will no doubt fall on my deaf ears. I have very little patience for those that have little to no value in my life. Long gone are the days where I have to humour other people's clamour for my kindness; I have none left, drained to the pus of the ever living boil nagging at my sore nog. I will not falter; those that dare to challenge will be challenged. Somehow I feel like I could crush vermin in the palm of my hand, and the satisfaction of owning will always permeate at the back of my nog right behind this boil telling me that what I do deserves some level of respect, and there are times when you have to lock someone's ankles to attain it. The world deserves its comeuppance, and light only shines when righteousness becomes audacious, because the path forward moves forward regardless of the level of intent. 

She could sense a palpable tension in my messages, like she knew that I was going to give up on her. Only recently have I learned not to burn bridges along the way. I certainly did not want to burn this one, but eventually I will have to deal with it one way or the other; it is inevitable. Trying not to let go of something that could potentially be a needle in a haystack seems so much of a waste of meaning that you cling to it hoping that what once was a paradisiacal possibility would turn out to be a potentially disastrous recipe for another paradisiacal possibility. I merely chose the one I felt in tune with the most. But now that the cat is in the bag, my hopes are that the cat remains in a catatonic state of both alive and dead, of me not knowing until the need for it arises once again. It seems to me like I have burned way too many bridges in the past for me to start now, and finally I have reached a point of transcendent realisation: do what is best for me. So I chose the best op

The niceness is a welcome stray, a wooly feline looking for a warm spot to scratch itself on. Almost like a raging need to participate in the human nature of everythingness. It forms as a social consequence of being in a tandem, or a group of more than three, and in any objective plurality. It could be measured by the desire for an absence of a certain something or longing, or neatly by chance, or a compulsive necessity for survival.  Right now I am massively burdened by the tugging of strings in many worldly directions. I feel like an active participant to something greater and relevant. It feels to me like for the first time in my life I can actually do real change if I only learn how to harness this, but at the same time is it really much of a necessity for what I need for myself and others near and dear to me right now? I cannot be compelled by my own personal delusions any longer. The dubiousnessf my own sense of self-importance is an impending futility that must needs be taken in

We have heard of this before. The awkward pause tiptoes on my tongue as it grates on its own lack of indulgence. The deed is done. It did went well ever better than it did in Spain. A week of excursions, full of emotions, the intense weight of heartspuns weaving arrogant torrents within a single point of failure. Where do I even begin? You wrap your head around it in the end and condense everything in a more mature endeavour. This fire suffocates, but that suffocation aspect is like a conundrum in itself. You will want to stay inside this microcosm and try to last for as long as you want. Everything is finite, for the good and the bad. And it often toys with the longing. Nostalgia in the face of someone you feel nostalgic about, and melancholy in the heat of the blissful intertwining of our lips wreathing in agonising ecstasy. I worry about where to go from here, back to the ever-moving sameness of the responsible you, rather than the ideal version of whom you portray yourself to be, b