It's fucked up.  It's all fucked up.  I've done some hard thinking on the 
subject and decided that the equation doesn't add up.  How the fuck can any 
divine power expect us to find ourselves in all this shit.  We as human 
beings, have enough problems dealing with our own, consistant inner dealings 
to even dream of understanding someone elses and converging them with our 
own.  Who the hell writes this shit?  If I we're to say that being in love 
isn't the most universally renouned feeling, I'd be talking out my ass.   
Love, or what ever you may want to call it, is one of the most intense and 
gratifying experiences imaginable.  But if it's so great, then why do we have 
to have all these speaches and talks, and comfortings to enable someone to   
be able to look past this most wonder of wonders.  The same way you would 
treat a fucking dope fiend.  But it's more like telling them to find a better 
dope dealer.  One who won't lace the shit with gasoline, or something like 
that.  It doesn't add up.  You identify with a person long enough to let your 
guard down.  At that point, the trough is open.  Then you feed, and you both 
fall into this wonderful sort of "learn special trust" mode.  You learn 
things so you can recognize you're staying power.  You mind meld with them, 
the best you can.  Then it always falls apart.  Maybe not for all you 
wonderful people in the dark, behind the lights, but from my standpoint, it 
always falls apart.  And it's because, though it was masked so well, I was 
essentially always alone.  Then the forerunners step in to try and make me 
lie to myself so I won't go out and eat a bullet.  It works, and I fall back 
to......WHAT??  Nothing.  Even after so much time of release, a year, god 
only knows, the haunting eventually returns.  What if that was my only crack 
at it?  What if it's all lost now?  They tell me there's about a %70 chance 
that's not true.  Who am I to argue with the fucking odds?  Oh, she's totally 
out of my life now.  I'm never going back to her.  Never even going to 
consider her an option.  But the idea of her, always remains.  It moves away 
for a while, almost out of sight completely, then it comes barreling back, 
completely unprovoked.  And I don't even recognize what's smacking me 
anymore.  But the sting seems quite familiar.  I want to scream at something, 
but it doesn't even exist anymore.  I try to reach back, was there ever a 
time I didn't need to feel like this?  Essentially, no.  I didn't start 
living until that short moment in time.  So I never really made a difference. 
 If any of you out there want to tell me I made an impact in your life, Fuck 
you.  I never did anything.  What ever separates me from the apes can piss 
off, because I think I'd be much happier throwing my feces around.  I'm 
making a stand.  If I don't get some results soon, life will have to come out 
from behind the couch and scream out,"FOOLED YOU!!" cause that's the only way 
I'm movin'. 
Yours Truly, 
Count Beau de Beamarchez