In other words, the square root of ****all is ****all. Why does this happen all the time. I was fine, I was happy & content, I had things planned and then bang one single keystroke and it all comes back. I am not weak I did not succumb to temptation, but that’s not to say it wasn’t at great personal agony! Does wishing change anything? Can things change? Logically the answer to all this is a resounding no, but does that ever stop us mere mortals from just plain wishing? Time heals all – that is such a big fat lie! Whoever came up with that is a ****wit tosser! Addled brain loser who wanted to get famous – and lucky for him we all lapped it up and yeah he got his spot in the limelight. Why did we lap it up? Is it like the same thing as wanting to believe that there's light at the end of the frigging tunnel? Shooting stars, rainbows even the nature is conspiring against us to believe, all the while laughing at us for our gullible need to clutch at straws! Grasping at the mirage do we ever stop to think that it’s exactly what we think it is – a mirage? Guess not. I am not sure why & when I started to get masochistic tendencies to derive pleasure from hurting myself so much that I try visibly to stop breathing for an end to the anguish. And yeah guess what the freaking torment is all my own doing – rationality is awesome, sometimes though I wonder, is being rational all that it cut out to be… again a resounding no! But at least I can look back and say whatever, I made my choice and guess what ill frigging live with it. Do I regret? Useless really since we can’t change the past… even if I could change it, I wouldn’t change certain decisions - I would rewrite the past and therein lies the problem. Fate must be laughing at me, hauling my ass back & forth all the while whispering in my ears - you were lucky enough to have had it once, you really don’t think I would let you have it again. Fate & hope are sisters, both merciless, demons riding our backs , getting us all happy and crushing us so fast & hard that not even any resemblance of pulverized soul remains. Rambling works well for me most days. My ramblings keep me sane or insane depending on our personal view point- not that I like give a ****. All in all if I died tomorrow I would die happy… So why do I have this bile rising up my throat when I say I am happy and content?