Xenon Wulf

Christ. I help people, listen to them, give them advice - but there's never anyone there for me when I need those things.

I've always had people tell me that being a friend is a two way thing, same as with respect - you're there for a friend, they're there for you. I don't know why I've had such trouble finding someone who could even do that on a regular basis.

If I'm not in a good mood and not in a mood to talk, guess what - don't push, or I will lash out. How hard is that to figure out? Complain about the fact that I lash out when it's pretty obvious that I don't want to be pushed, and guess what - I'll lash out even more.

I have to take your shit attitude and mood swings and not say a thing - guess what, the least you could do is return the fucking favor.

The more it goes, the more I feel like this city no longer holds anything for me. I love it dearly and deeply - it's home, but like so many people in my life I've cared about, it's at best indifferent, at worse hates me. I thing I will take the time to get those last 6 credits needed for my diploma, and then get the fuck out. What's the point in staying in someplace where you're not wanted?

The booming bass,
the throbbing echoes of over-played songs,
as tired as those who dance to them,
their crushed bodies exuding sweat, loneliness and desperation,
as the cast a tired line for the umpteenth time,
hoping against hope to change their fortune and find someone for thi night.

Under the strobing and pulsating lights,
the bodies of the desperate gather,
their pathetic search for a warm body with who to share their bed for a night,
a momentary respite from the drudgery of their daily lives.

From the outside, looking in,
the mass of those engaged in such a fruitless attempt appear as no more than an ungainly throng of limbs,
one half skinnier than a skeleton picked clean by vultures,
the other fatter than an oxen left to graze at an all-you-can-eat buffet hosted by McDonalds for a few days too many.

In the end, what's the point?

Strains of the song to which the title of this post makes a reference to come to mind as I write this entry.

Spent an okay day for the most part - people's plans kept changing on me, and I've had that annoyingly nagging feeling that the universe was about to kick me in the crotch. Again.

First birthday I went to today was fine and miserable all at once. Felt like the outsider I was. Decided to leave early in order not to miss the second birthday. Turned out I should not've hurried. Had to leave before the person arrived, as I was to meet other friends somewhere else.

They were there, only one of them left to return to the point I had just come from. Exhausted and drained, annoyed at the bad music and the vibes I was getting, I decide to head home. End up waiting far too long in Cote-Vertu because some asshole driver can't wait for 2 minutes when he knows that the bus which brings in most of his passengers has to take a detour due to roadwork.

Wound up getting spat on (nice big loogie, good aim) by some wigga/gangsta-wannabe as he left the bus. And as much as a slight part of me is screaming bloody murder, I just can't feel angry enough. I. Just. Can't. Bring. Myself. To. Care.

For some reason, I keep thinking that this entire evening could resume the way my life has been for as long as I can remember.

I just feel so tired right now. My bed and my bottle of vodka are calling...

It's funny how many times I've seen women I was interested in wind up with my best buddies,
It's funny how many times I've been told I'm an awesome guy yet could never be more than a friend,
It's funny how the people you feel the most strongly about, and who you'd like to have in your life as "that special someone" is a friend who refuses to see you as anything but,
It's funny how hard it is to take when someone you trust breaks that trust doing what he felt was right,
It's funny how easy it is to turn your back on someone you trusted and who broke that trust stupidly,
It's funny how futile it all seems in that one instant of clarity,
It's funny how easy it is to pretend everything is right when all you want to do is scream out in pain and fear at the sight of it all,
It's funny how easy it is to convince yourself that you have to be strong and bear it with a grin,
It's funny how easy it is to forget how shaky you are, when you have someone to hold up and who holds you up,
It's funny how fast it all falls down when the trust of that person turns to hatred and loathing,
It's funny what you'd be willing to do to escape the guilt of having caused that,
It's funny how, in the end, it'll only end up repeating itself, over and over,
It's funny how, when looking back, I realize it's still the same thing that I've been through, over and over,
It's funny how all of this, being repeated over and over, has worn me out,
It's funny how, in the end, I am simply nothing,
It's funny how it cost me all I held dear to realize that.

I will laugh now, and never stop my roaring laughter, as I fear that if I did, I could never stop my tears.

I used to lash out at the world and was told by someone I trusted that it would bring me hurt,

I was honest and direct about something that festered inside me, and was rewarded with such hatred and loathing that my heart and soul were rent to pieces on the spot.

I tried to numb the pain, I lashed in - honesty and lashing out showing what they could do. And I lost it all.


Was there ever a right choice?

Create your own Friend Test here

This has just GOT to be shared

http://i-am-bored.com/bored_link.cfm?link_id=21652

It is our actions that define who we are, in the ned, as they are what people around us perceive, rather than intent.

I've been told recently that I wander in and out of people's lives, never letting people know how long I'll hang around them.

There are a few reasons for that: people are unreliable, untrustworthy, irresponsible and disrespectful. In short, people piss me off.

Not that they aren't nice people - their intents are nothing but nice: they want to hang out, they want to go out have coffee, they want to have nights spent playing games, they want to see me stay forever: as a boyfriend, as a lover, as a friend.

Their actions, however, don't match their intents: lame excuses, half-assed reasons, ridiculous explanations.

I've got two words for them, two words they've very often said to me:

FUCK IT

Yeah, fuck it - I don't need you pricks in my life. Take a moment out of your self-important lazy little life of yours to think about this: I DON'T NEED YOU. NOT ANY SINGLE ONE OF YOU. I was alone before you came along and I'll be alone after you'll have left. I'm a "wanderer" I've been alone for longer than I can remember or care about. You aren't necessary in my life.

Think about that for a while.

Now here's two more words for you profiteering bastards out there:

SHAPE UP

I'm sick of hearing you fuckers whine about how things aren't going well for you, when you just deal out the same crap you're complaining about to everyone around you that you supposedly care about.

I don't hate you guys (yet) - heck, I like you guys, I mean, I AM giving you jackasses a chance, aren't I?

Yeah, I'm blunt, acid and hurtful, but you know what? I'm honest about this and if you feel like I'm talking about you, maybe, just MAYBE, you should think about making an effort and putting concrete actions behind your intents...

( my xmas stocking )

You are the Hanged Man

Self-sacrifice, Sacrifice, Devotion, Bound.

With the Hanged man there is often a sense of fatalism, waiting for something to happen. Or a fear of
loss from a situation, rather than gain.

The Hanged Man is perhaps the most fascinating card in the deck. It reflects the story of Odin who offered himself as a sacrifice in order to gain knowledge. Hanging from the world tree, wounded by a spear, given no bread or mead, he hung for nine days. On the last day, he saw on the ground runes that had fallen from the tree, understood their meaning, and, coming down, scooped them up for his own. All knowledge is to be found in these runes.

The Hanged Man, in similar fashion, is a card about suspension, not life or death. It signifies selflessness, sacrifice and prophecy. You make yourself vulnerable and in doing so, gain illumination. You see the world differently, with almost mystical insights.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

I'm sick of other people's happiness, sick of watching them repeat the same mistakes over and over.
I'm sick that I'm always the one everyone turns to when help is needed, but no one is ever there in return.
I'm sick of seeing everyone else get all the fun while life passes me by.
I'm sick of seeing the assholes mess up the girls who don't deserve it.
I'm sick of having it rubbed in my face by everybody.


I feel sick of it all, and wish I could just leave everything to rot.


In other news, I wish the world would just shut up and die, already.

Is there anything more aggravating than people who change their plans (when they involved you) without letting you know about it?

Is it so hard to let people know that instead of doing whatever you were supposed to do together, you'll now be washing/dyeing/shaving your hair/cat/neighbour?

It's not like it's really any difficult these days to reach people - does it demand so much effort to pick up the god damned phone and call, send an e-mail or catch somone on an IM program?

Christ, even worse - how hard is it to actually pick up your own fucking phone to answer when the person you were supposed to do something with is trying to reach you because you haven't given a sign of life? How hard is it to check your fucking messages once in a while?

People piss me off and make me want to go on a rampage.


In other news, I need cookies, sandwiches and hugs. Not necessarily in that order.

What is it with the people who are and have been in my life?
Am I nothing at all? A fly on the wall, a distant third or fourth choice?
Yes, I do try to make life nicer for those around me,
I do go out of my way to make the existence of those I care for easier.

You expect me to help? I will - but I expect some decency in return.
I will put you up for the night, but I expect not to have to clean after you.
I will give you a shoulder to cry on, but I expect to find an attentive ear.
I will give you a hand, but I expect a simple thank you and a heartfelt smile.
I will go with you to places and events, but I expect you to understand that I don't live anywhere interesting and that I need to get back home to sleep and so will leave early.
I will make the time and do a detour to go visit you, but I expect you to show up on my doorstep once in a while as well.
I will be a friend, be there and support you when you need it, but I expect an encouraging word or two and some show of affection once in a while.

Stop fucking taking me for granted. All of you.
Stop trying to weasel out of your side of the bargain.
Stop trying to manipulate me or guilt-trip me into doing what you want - I've had enough of that shit to last me a lifetime, you're just pissing me off.

The charity's closed for restock - and it ain't going to reopen soon.
Hope you enjoy what you got out of it, because it's all you'll be getting for a while.

Had way too much fun with this one. Is it just me or is the loot rather similar, for once?

( Just to copy Kathleen )

Remind me to never let cute chicks have access to my LJ settings. The bitches always make puppy eyes at me and then add themselves to my friends list when I'm not looking.

Pain in the ass.

Yes Vicky, I'm talking about you :p

The first five people to respond to this post, will get some form of art, made by me, about (or tailored to) them. I make no guarantees about quality or type, but I will assure that I will give it good effort and that the art will be individual, so if you get some sort of painting doodle or a bracelet, yours is the only one like it.

The only catch, of course; as with most memes, if you sign up, you have to put this in your own
Also, I make no promises about response time. I'll try to do them in a timely fashion, but I can't guarantee inspiration will strike immediately.

( Pour faire different, un court poeme de Victor Hugo... )