Cruel, Cruel Ironies

I feel like it's fucking me. How can it be like that? It's all just a sick joke. And I am the punch line. How could it have possibly happened? I'm out of the loop and a million miles away wasting my life once again. Can I win? Will I ever win? You don't get these chances all the time. It's never what you imagine it to be. The functional is truly dysfunction in disguise. I've only figured that out now. But the truth will be exposed for what it is. Is this even right? There isn't a hope in hell. I'm beyond tired. What happens to the tank after even the fumes have disappeared? The bitter twist is that what's keeping me alive is really killing me in the end. None of it is replaceable. A few more days nonetheless. What has happened to me? These things are not compatible. Make me king. There are many faces of reality. And they are all poker faces. Not yet, not quite yet. And again it's all on me. I can shoulder it.

I'm trying to get away from screens this weekend barring typing this out. I'm enjoying the read I'm making some good headway.

Isn't it weird that blogger+ uses the old iOS keyboard in the app? I wonder why they never updated it, but that's fine, it's a good keyboard. But at least I'm on the app and blogging with a weekend update. Haven't had one of those in a while.

Let me just sit and stew on it. Like 2 ships forever passing in the night.

I'm done.

Joaquin out.