This scar turns purple in the winter.

Fuck everything I was originally going to say in this post. Because it was entirely meaningless shit I pulled out of my ass to make a filler post for this part of December.

I'm not a goddamn patron saint, but forgive me if I want to mean something to someone.

I don't know who I am, or where I'm going. That's what I was going to say. But that has become a lie this night after too much stress and too much night-time backseat driving. I know where and who I am, and where I'm going doesn't concern me. I haven't slept in around twenty four hours. That's helped clear my mind more than I can tell you. I have thought, it is true I want fans. Though I only want a fan I can be a fan of.

But let's start with the basics. I want to tell almost everyone I know this:

"Don't ever talk to me again. I don't intend on seeing you from here on out. If you're wondering why, the reason is so simple I can't hardly understand it myself. I couldn't until now, after five years of interference between my heart and my mind.
I surround myself with people who see me as someone more than just someone. Each person I consider a friend or lover is a bigger part of my life than myself, and is essential to me.

I thought about whether or not I'm essential to you, and I'm sure you don't have to tell me what the answer is.

Tonight, I realized I'm expendable, a detachable part of your life. There are six billion people on this Earth, and to you, I'm just another one you just happened to become familiar with. I'm not your best friend, I'm not your lover, I'm not someone you need. I am someone you hang out with because I am funny, or I'm a hypocrite and I ask for attention. I could so easily walk out of your life and hardly affect you, and because that is what it is, I'm going to do so. After this, I will never talk to you past a common greeting. You can tell our friends I'm a dick for all I care. But as far as it's going to go, you are going to watch me walk away and not fight for a single damn thing. And I'm not going to fight to change someone else. So what you're going to do here is watch me walk away without a single 'good-bye'."

And it will go unsaid. Because I don't have the guts to say this to anyone without the naturally made opportunity, and no-one has the patience to hear this out without interrupting me. However, here in this journal lies my resolution, and I will hold to it, because no-one else will hold me to my promises. I am so entirely sick of thinking after a night of going out how bad I felt being there. But that's my life, a motto of repetition,

J. Cassaday, Feeling Bad Everywhere.