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Allow me to start by saying I hate people.

People are disgusting, backstabbing, hopeless cattle that do nothing but complain about grass. How it's always greener over there, or how much more they need than others. Constantly groaning and never standing in the part of the pasture that would best suit them. People are responsible for this neverending curse called the monetary system, reality TV, fashion, YouTube sensations, and a never ending parade of unbelievable fuckups. I hate you all.

That said, as most would expect, I've met some beautiful individuals that fundamentally changed my life. Either by showing me some cosmic understanding or by simply existing next to me, I have been blessed to know more than five people that weren't complete shitheads. This is not to say that you, the reader, could be exempt from my original statement, but a merely expressing that there are exceptions to the rule... The rule of cattle over my life.

I have known love. I have known lust. I have known romance. I have known the thrill of the hunt, and the pain of loss, and the craving of a woman that left me wanting more. I have known the addiction that comes with knowing someone so similar in value to myself. I now know the defeat of settling for someone that I do not deserve. Such is the end of a hunt.

I've found, through methods of therapy and self awareness classes, that I am obsessive. Women have suffered this error and I have concluded that not a single one of them would accept an apology for this. Though this trait leads to abusive tendencies, I have accepted that it bleeds into my more masochistic qualities. Deprivation of closure used to be the bane of my very existence. It is now all that I fantasize.

One woman in particular, who may or may not be reading this, has long forgotten me. She lives her life without a thought in my direction and I have written about her every single day. I've sought her out multiple times and she is less than receptive. That's all I need to know. I don't know where she lives, what her newfound interests are or how many men have broken her heart. I don't know if she ever graduated college for radiology or if she's still editing photos. I don't need to know.

I'm fully aware that this behavior isn't healthy. I'm aware that this obsession I have with one woman isn't worth my time or anticipation. She's probably changed so much that the mental projection I have of her could be a completely different person with her face on it. The fact is, I could let her go, but I don't want to. In my mind, she's on a pedestal so high that, to dare to worship her would insult her. The fantasy; barring all sexual favors and lust of her flesh, I crave most is that she would touch my shoulder and tell me I am worthy. I pity any man, dominant or submissive, that doesn't know a fantasy as deep and profound as she is to me.

And how I hate her! She left me wanting more and all I had was her company. Of course, I know she had other shit on her plate and I was annoying and angsty and stressful. At the time, I deserved no more than to be left, but she couldn't just leave! She left me craving more of her. More than Grace and dignity, she had the song of a siren, and she sang it to me as she left. I could have begged her, pleaded with her not to go, and she would have continued to sing- her voice piercing my heart. I both hate and love the way she left me.

I hate the way she loved in waves. Weeks at a time of passion and security to be suddenly dropped for the next new toy. I was a dildo for her mind. A plaything kept in a box of others, no more or less important than any other man she could have and when it was my turn, I let her use me up, dying inside every night. I wanted her and even that was too much to ask.

How else could you define a goddess? I had to share her with all of her worshipers and in the end, I still pray to her every night as an unnoticed, forgotten and dutiful servant among the shitheaps of people I so despise. You don't deserve her!

My prayers in the dark went unheard. My solace was an echo of her song. And though I've known love after my chapter of life with her, I still quake at the thought of taking her away from all her troubles and singlehandedly making her dreams come true. Until then, I wander and hunt and wonder if she'll notice me again.

Finally, allow me to end by saying, I hate people.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Allow me to start by saying I hate people.

People are disgusting, backstabbing, hopeless cattle that do nothing but complain about grass. How it's always greener over there, or how much more they need than others. Constantly groaning and never standing in the part of the pasture that would best suit them. People are responsible for this neverending curse called the monetary system, reality TV, fashion, YouTube sensations, and a never ending parade of unbelievable fuckups. I hate you all.

That said, as most would expect, I've met some beautiful individuals that fundamentally changed my life. Either by showing me some cosmic understanding or by simply existing next to me, I have been blessed to know more than five people that weren't complete shitheads. This is not to say that you, the reader, could be exempt from my original statement, but a merely expressing that there are exceptions to the rule... The rule of cattle over my life.

I have known love. I have known lust. I have known romance. I have known the thrill of the hunt, and the pain of loss, and the craving of a woman that left me wanting more. I have known the addiction that comes with knowing someone so similar in value to myself. I now know the defeat of settling for someone that I do not deserve. Such is the end of a hunt.

I've found, through methods of therapy and self awareness classes, that I am obsessive. Women have suffered this error and I have concluded that not a single one of them would accept an apology for this. Though this trait leads to abusive tendencies, I have accepted that it bleeds into my more masochistic qualities. Deprivation of closure used to be the bane of my very existence. It is now all that I fantasize.

One woman in particular, who may or may not be reading this, has long forgotten me. She lives her life without a thought in my direction and I have written about her every single day. I've sought her out multiple times and she is less than receptive. That's all I need to know. I don't know where she lives, what her newfound interests are or how many men have broken her heart. I don't know if she ever graduated college for radiology or if she's still editing photos. I don't need to know.

I'm fully aware that this behavior isn't healthy. I'm aware that this obsession I have with one woman isn't worth my time or anticipation. She's probably changed so much that the mental projection I have of her could be a completely different person with her face on it. The fact is, I could let her go, but I don't want to. In my mind, she's on a pedestal so high that, to dare to worship her would insult her. The fantasy; barring all sexual favors and lust of her flesh, I crave most is that she would touch my shoulder and tell me I am worthy. I pity any man, dominant or submissive, that doesn't know a fantasy as deep and profound as she is to me.

And how I hate her! She left me wanting more and all I had was her company. Of course, I know she had other shit on her plate and I was annoying and angsty and stressful. At the time, I deserved no more than to be left, but she couldn't just leave! She left me craving more of her. More than Grace and dignity, she had the song of a siren, and she sang it to me as she left. I could have begged her, pleaded with her not to go, and she would have continued to sing- her voice piercing my heart. I both hate and love the way she left me.

I hate the way she loved in waves. Weeks at a time of passion and security to be suddenly dropped for the next new toy. I was a dildo for her mind. A plaything kept in a box of others, no more or less important than any other man she could have and when it was my turn, I let her use me up, dying inside every night. I wanted her and even that was too much to ask.

How else could you define a goddess? I had to share her with all of her worshipers and in the end, I still pray to her every night as an unnoticed, forgotten and dutiful servant among the shitheaps of people I so despise. You don't deserve her!

My prayers in the dark went unheard. My solace was an echo of her song. And though I've known love after my chapter of life with her, I still quake at the thought of taking her away from all her troubles and singlehandedly making her dreams come true. Until then, I wander and hunt and wonder if she'll notice me again.

Finally, allow me to end by saying, I hate people.